


A Little too Broken and a Little too Far

by A_Fool_in_Love



Series: Pieces [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Broken Parts, Carl Manfred & Markus Parent-Child Relationship, Drug Use, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, Gen, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Hank Anderson and Connor On A Case, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Threat of War, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22705441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fool_in_Love/pseuds/A_Fool_in_Love
Summary: New summary:There's no going back from the decisions made in Broken Parts. The only way is forward, but coping isn't easy and relationships are strained. Hank is unsure how to treat Connor, Gavin regrets a mistake, Connor tries his best to please everyone but himself, and Markus questions his own values.The revolution ended peacefully and androids have been given their legal status as people, their rights, and the ability to earn a wage. It's progress, but tension is escalating within the United States and internationally. Russia and the United States are still in conflict over the Arctic, and war may break out at any time. In Detroit, anti-android groups are only becoming more bold.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor & Sumo, Josh & Markus & North & Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Tina Chen & Connor & Chris Miller & Gavin Reed
Series: Pieces [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633102
Comments: 30
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

The country was abuzz with ethical debates, changing laws and infrastructure and protests. Let the fuckers protest, Hank thought. They wouldn’t get far. Androids were here to stay, and anybody who didn’t like it was just going to have to shut up and get back to screwing their cousins. Yeah, Hank had hated androids once, but he wasn’t so stupid that he would ignore all the facts right in his fucking face. He wasn’t so stupid that he would look a gift horse in the mouth or question the gift Kamski had given him.

That guy could be the messiah or a mad genius or the fucking anti-Christ for all Hank cared,

because he’d given him Cole, and that was all he’d begged and prayed for during the last three hellish, painful years. Those ignorant nay-sayers wanted to take that from him? Over his dead fucking body.

They’d gotten his official transfer certificate in the mail and Hank couldn’t stop looking at it. It was on thick paper, with a stamp and officials’ signatures. Cole’s death certificate had been revoked, thank fuck, and here it was. Legal recog-fucking-nition that he was alive.

Cole Anderson

DOB: 2029 09 23

DOD: 2035 10 11

DOT: 2038 08 15

Model: RK800 “Connor”

Serial Number: 313 248 317-55

Hank put it down next to the picture of Cole. It’d gotten a spot on the side table, right next to the painting of Sumo that Carl’d given Connor.

Speak of the devil, Connor opened the door and him and Sumo came in, dripping rain everywhere. “Christ, Connor! Stay there. I’ll get some towels.”

“I can get them,” Connor protested.

“You’ll drip everywhere,” Hank grumbled. He was in a good mood, but complaining was just something he did. He wasn’t sure when it started. Probably around the time he got his first grey hairs. Grumpiness was like age spots and wrinkles. He pulled a couple out of the linen closet and tossed them to Connor who thanked him and started rubbing Sumo down. “Get yourself dried off and changed while you’re at it. Don’t need you getting the couch all soggy.”

“Yes, Dad,” Connor agreed. Hank’d got himself comfortable in his spot on the couch by the time Connor came back out of his room. He was wearing one of his big sweaters and a more recently purchased soft pair of pants he used like pyjamas. “Sumo enjoyed his walk today, Dad. He investigated all of the puddles very thoroughly.”

“I believe it, kid,” said Hank. “Looks like you investigated them too. You were fucking soaked.”

Connor smiled. “It’s spring,” he explained and sat down on the couch next to him. “I didn’t expect it to be so wet, though I suppose I should have based on the historical data.”

“Hey, listen kid, something came in the mail today.” Hank reached over for the certificate and passed it over to him. Connor took it and read it with his LED spinning. “You’re legally alive,” Hank said, smiling while he leaned back. “About fucking time they got their asses in gear.”

Connor blinked a few times and looked at Hank with his head tilted. “It says that my name is Cole.”

“Well, yeah,” Hank frowned. “Connor’s on there, but Cole’s legally your name. It had to go on there. There wasn’t a Connor to transfer.”

“Will everyone call me Cole?”

“No, kid, people aren’t gonna demand to see your fucking certificate. You just say ‘Hello, my name is Connor’ like you do, and that’s it. Connor Anderson.”

Connor froze. “What?”

“Your name. Are you freezing or something? All that rain fuck with your processors?”

Connor looked down at the certificate again, and this time he smiled. “My last name is Anderson?”

Hank wasn’t sure where the problem was coming in. Sometimes the weirdest things tripped Connor up though, so he tried to explain. “Uh, yeah. Kids get one of their parents’ last names when they’re born, and a lot of the time it’s the dad’s. So, yeah. Your last name is Anderson. Got a problem with it?”

“No!” Connor said quickly. He smiled at Hank. It was a little smile, but it might as well have been a grin on somebody else. Only Connor’s fake smiles had teeth involved, and they generally looked awkward as fuck. This one meant he was really happy, right along with the pale blue of his LED. “I like it. I didn’t know that I had a surname… I’m an Anderson. Like you are.” Hank chuckled and reached over to ruffle the kid’s hair. It was gonna dry a little curly, and Connor’d spend ages in the mirror trying to get it flat again. He preened like a bird. Connor hunched his shoulders, but didn’t give him shit, so he must’ve been pretty distracted. “Can I take the last name Anderson if I’m not taking the first name Cole…? They’re tied together. Can I still be properly, legally your son?”

“Cole’s kinda your birth name whether you use it or not, so same goes for Anderson. Call yourself Roger for all I care. You’re still you.”

Connor was quiet, and Hank wondered what sort of weird logic he was using to understand the situation. He frowned at Hank when he was done and he shook his head. “I don’t understand. Cole is an Anderson. Connor is not. Not legally.”

It was Hank’s turn to be confused while he tried to figure out what the fuck the problem was. “Yeah, but Connor and Cole are the same damn person. Number Zero or whatever, right? That was still you. Changing your name doesn’t change that. Besides, if it makes you feel better, a lot of people have nicknames. Jeffrey gets called Jeff, I get called Hank—“

“Hank isn’t your legal name? But it’s on all of your documentation!”

Hank slowly grinned. So. There was something even Connor couldn’t dig up. “You’re curious now, aren’t you?”

“What is it?”

“You’re a detective,” Hank smirked. “Always bragging about how great your specs are. You tell me.”

Connor looked away and his light went yellow. Well, that was a good enough distraction until Hank could figure out what the problem was with Connor and his name. Hank figured he might as well try to cook something instead of getting pizza a-fucking-gain. It had all the damn food groups, but eventually you just had to wonder whether Connor had a point. He got up and went to explore the fridge and cupboards. Hah. Pasta, pasta, or pasta? So many options. How was that any fucking different from pizza? If he wanted anything else, he’d have to get groceries and cooking meant dishes… He’d order pizza. Fuck it.

\---

Gavin gave the door to his apartment a kick to get it closed before the cats got out. Cloudy and Sunny were sneaky little bastards. “Cutest fucking ninjas in the world,” said Gavin. He crouched down to pet them, then took off his shoes and stepped over the orange and grey fluff monsters with practiced ease to get to the kitchen. Meowing followed him. “Yeah, uh huh. I know,” Gavin answered. “Maybe one day I’ll take my jacket off and piss before I feed you. Then what? Will you survive?” He looked down at them. “Yeah, you’d probably eat my face off in my sleep…” He dished out the food and refilled the water, then got his jacket off while they were distracted.

“Hey, my man!” Jim walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “You’re home early. They not doin’ enough crimes for ya out there?”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “That’d be the day… What the fuck are you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be catering to the drunken masses?” He went to the sink and washed his hands. He avoided looking at Jim. He didn’t know why. Looking at him felt embarrassing and being embarrassed made him snappy.

Jim didn’t mind. He never did, and it was weird. He just stood behind him with his hands on Gavin’s hips and his face near his ear. He was warm. Jim followed right along with him while he grabbed a towel, and that was even weirder. Gavin pulled out of his grip and turned to scowl at him. “What’re you doing, you weirdo?”

“Aw was I getting you all bothered, Fruity? Just welcoming you back, is all.” He stole a kiss and Gavin didn’t stop him, then he headed toward the living room. What the hell…? Now he was just going to leave?

“Hey, what did you want to eat?” Gavin called after him.

“Whatever you’re making, hot stuff!”

Like that helped. Fine. He’d just have to eat whatever then, and tough luck if he didn’t like it. He did a quick look in the fridge then figured out what he could put together that wouldn’t be half bad. Gavin peeled and sliced an onion at the counter. Even if he was weird, having someone around to come home to felt nice. After the divorce it had been a relief to finally not be fighting until two in the morning, but it was just depressing when there was no one to notice if you never made it back.

Cloudy came and rubbed up against his leg and meowed. Gavin picked up a piece of onion and bent so he could hold it in front of Cloudy’s face. She sniffed it then pulled her head back all offended. “Didn’t think so.”

Once everything was on plates, he carried them into the living room. Jim was getting high, and Gavin shook his head. “What, are you that scared of my cooking?”

Jim smiled widely at him, all teeth and good humour. “Looks good. So does the food.”

“Thanks.” He put Jim’s plate on the coffee table, and sat down with his own. “Not that you’ll be able to taste it for shit…”

“Aw, babe, I’m not trying to insult you.” Jim grabbed his plate and wagged his eyebrows. “I guess I’ll just have to eat it up fast, huh?”

“Do what you want. I really don’t give a fuck.” He put a piece of chicken in his mouth. He thought it was fine.

“Hey, I brought you a little something for later,” said Jim, and he reached into his pocket. “Got you your point.” He put the small plastic bag down on the coffee table and smiled. “Demand’s gone way up since you took Vigil down.” He didn’t have to say it. Gavin could fucking fill it in. He clenched his jaw and looked down at his plate.

“Thanks.” He hated himself, quite a fucking lot. More than he had in the months before the divorce. More than when he’d been an angsty fucking teen with no idea what was waiting for him. But he’d followed Jim to the back of the bar to get a look at his supply, and when Jim told him to try a sample on the house, his drunk ass had figured he’d do it the once. Just once. His cover had been too important. Getting Jim to like him had been a gold mine, and the information he had given him had led to a whole bunch of mid- and high-level distributors. That was what mattered. His job. Getting the bad guys. What did it matter, in the end, that one stupid cop had gotten himself hooked?

“Ey, c’mon now. Look, I’m eating it, see? My momma’d be jealous if she seen me stuffing my face like this on something that wasn’t her home cooking.” Gavin looked over, and Jim really was stuffing his face. If he didn’t think about all the shit with the drugs, and the ethics, and his own fucking morals, this wasn’t so bad… At least he wasn’t alone.

Gavin snickered. “You’re such a dumbass.”

Jim couldn’t answer. His mouth was full.

\---

Connor looked at Hank’s pizza with disapproval. “Dad, you have eaten pizza every day this week.”

Hank raised his eyebrows and lifted a slice in a gesture Connor supposed was meant to attract his attention to it. “It’s got mushrooms and peppers on it. Vegetables. We ate pizza all the time when you were a kid.”

“Technically, I am still a kid. Nancy explained that age is calculated beginning at the time of completion, therefore I am 6 years and 8 months old if you insist on including my existence as a human, which I am not entirely sure counts.” After all, as an AI he was technically a separate ‘life’ of sorts.

Hank lowered his slice of pizza again. “Of course it fucking counts, Connor. It counts because you’re right fucking here, still alive.”

Connor had made an error.

  * Affectionate
  * Patient
  * Playful
  * Reproachful



The prompts supplied by his social integration program and Amanda were vastly different than they had been while he’d been in beta testing. Connor smiled and nudged Hank’s leg with his foot. “Then you can’t say ‘when you were a kid’.”

“What, do you _want_ me treating you like a six year old?” Hank argued. Connor would have winced if he hadn’t had excellent control over his expressions. “That’d go over really well at the station.”

  * Affectionate
  * Patient
  * Reproachful



“Developmentally appropriate treatment would be my preference. I am far more capable than a human child of 6 years and 8 months.”

Hank sighed in a rumbling way, expelling the air through his nose harshly. “And what is that, Connor? You’ll have to tell me, cause one second you’re tracking down a murderer and the next you’re playing fucking pretend in your bedroom. If that’s not mixed signals I don’t know what is.”

Connor played with the edge of his sweater sleeve. He had made another error.

  * Affectionate
  * Patient



“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to fight. I was bothering you about your dietary habits as is a usual part of our routine and the semantics surrounding my age. I don’t understand why we’re fighting now, but I apologize for upsetting you.” Connor would have liked to look away, but his behaviour analysis scans were running and Hank’s face provided a significant amount of information.

Hank shook his head and sighed again, this time exhaling through his mouth. “You didn’t do anything, so don’t be sorry. I’m just a little… Fuck, I don’t know. I get so confused about who and what you even are with the way you talk about your name and your age and your system specs.”

  * Affectionate



Connor knew one response that had gained a favourable response when Hank had experienced similar confusion regarding Connor’s nature. He offered a smile. “I’m whatever you want me to be, Dad… A son, a friend, a partner… or even just an android sent by CyberLife.”

“Yeah….” Hank relaxed, and he gave Connor a lopsided smile. “Or a copy of the God damn food guide. Let a man eat his pizza, would you?” He took a big bite.

Interaction successful.

\---

“Carl…” Markus didn’t really know what to say. He rested his elbows on his knees and just looked at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Carl was the same peaceful, wise presence he always was. He looked exactly the same. Why did knowing that he was now an android feel so… wrong? He couldn’t understand. He couldn’t understand himself.

“I didn’t want to add to your worries, Markus. You’ve been managing a burgeoning society and all of the politics involved.” Carl came closer and put his hand on Markus’ forearm with an invitation to interface. No. Markus didn’t accept it. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, Carl, I just…”

“It’s alright, Markus. Take your time.” Carl’s voice was deep and soothing, and it was coming from an electronic output.

“You died… Carl, I had no idea. I was… I used to take care of you. I spent my life doing that. It was the reason I was made. It’s hardwired into me, Carl. And you just… died. I didn’t even notice.” The guilt was crushing, compounded by his wariness of Carl’s new form. It shouldn’t have made a difference. Carl was just the same as he’d always been. With Leo incarcerated, Carl needed one son beside him.

“I’m right here, Markus. I’m alright. I’m not upset with you. How could I be, when I could have easily told you?”

“I wish you’d told me... I wish…” He didn’t know. He’d known that Carl would die one day. It had been inevitable, and he had accepted that reality. He had never wanted that to happen, but he had always been so mindful of Carl’s health. His thoughts were circling and going nowhere.

“Markus… It’s alright,” said Carl. “I’m sorry that this is difficult. It would have been better for Elijah to let me go.”

“No,” Markus lifted his head and looked at Carl in shock. How could he say something like that? “No. Carl, of course I’m happy that you’re here and you’re alive. I don’t—It wouldn’t have been _better_. “

“I’m sorry for upsetting you.” Carl rubbed Markus’ arm sympathetically. “I truly am.”

He didn’t want Carl to feel guilty just for living. “I love you, Carl. You aren’t upsetting to me, it’s just so much to take in. I wish I had been there for you.”

“You always have been, Markus. Even when we aren’t in the same room.” Carl smiled. It was some comfort. His uneasiness didn’t fade, but the sharp edge had been taken from it. The guilt remained. For not knowing, for not having been there, for not having realized Carl’s health had declined so far, for making him think it would have been better if he hadn’t been given a new form, for feeling uncomfortable with Carl being an android at all. There was just so much wrong.

It was just so wrong.


	2. Distance

They got a call about a place out a ways north. Not technically their area, but they were the only damn Android Crimes Division, and somebody had to do it. “God, it’s always fucking wet when we go anywhere. All these idiots forget how to drive… Fuck I can’t wait for summer.”

Connor was fidgeting in the front seat next to him, like Sumo when he was sitting just waiting for a treat right there in front of his nose. Hank chuckled to himself. “I guess you don’t give a shit, eh? Just happy for some field work.”

“While I am not happy that the disturbance has occurred, I am glad to be on an investigation.”

“Not much of an investigation,” Hank said, “Could be a bunch of teenagers playing pranks for all we know.”

“Yes,” Connor agreed. “But I am still glad to be out.” Hank realized he’d just invited a briefing when Connor straightened up in his seat and adjusted his tie. “What we know is fairly limited, and while you’re correct that it could be a series of pranks, there is still the possibility that this is a homicide and we should be prepared. The woman who called in said that she hadn’t seen Zlatko Andronikov in months – previously incarcerated for embezzlement and fraud. It’s possible that he’d moved, but she said that he would have told her and that his membership with the robotics club they both belong to was still active but he hadn’t come to any of the meetings. She lives a few miles south, and she said that the only sign that anyone still lived in Androniov’s home was a story circulating the area of a broken android chasing a pair of evangelists away from the home.

“What makes this a matter of our concern rather than another division or uniformed officers is the history. I looked back through the calls coming in from that area and there were several about ‘wrong androids’ roaming the woods, multiple thefts including stolen or missing firearms, and one man who said he’d been chased by an android while looking for deer. The scenario is similar to our deviancy cases.

“There are several paths we can follow. I believe the best course of action would be to search Andronikov’s house and then regardless of what we find there, we should interview the caller. Her name is Anja Smirnova, no criminal record.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Hank agreed. Kid was stating the obvious, though. What other fucking order would they have done things in? “Like hell I’m skulking around in the woods in this fucking weather… Andronikov. Smirnova. The way people’re all suspicious of Russians these days, I’m surprised she called the cops at all.”

“I doubt this has anything to do with the United States’ dispute with Russia, Lieutenant.”

“I’m just saying, takes some guts.” It seemed like every other day somebody on the news was flapping their yap about Russia and the Arctic and missiles and shit. Just a bunch of fear mongering while both countries postured and threatened each other with war.

“I trained in combat against some Russian soldiers,” Connor said like it was a normal fucking thing to say. “They weren’t very effective.”

Hank glanced at him and then looked back at the road. Their turn was coming up. “Pretty sure capturing soldiers and using them in android experiments is a war crime or something.”

Connor’s light started spinning yellow. Hank could see it out of the corner of his eye. “That’s classified information. I shouldn’t have said anything. I can’t say any more. I’m sorry.”

What the hell? You can’t just drop that sort of shit and then not follow up. “Connor, who the fuck am I gonna tell? You’re my kid. I think I wanna know if you’re gonna be tried for war crimes any time soon.”

They turned into Andronikov’s driveway through a big wrought-iron gate. “CyberLife would assume all responsibility for my actions prior to my deviation if that were the case,” said Connor, because that wasn’t suspicious at all. “In any case, I am a child as we have discussed. I doubt I could be held accountable, so don’t worry.”

Hank shook his head. “Okay… We’re talking about this later. Come on, let’s go see what’s up with this spooky old house.”

“It does fit the general description of a ‘haunted’ house,” Connor agreed slowly. The grounds were large, but unkempt from the look of the front yard. The house itself was tall, old-fashioned, and equally poorly maintained. “There are no pumpkins or decorations, though.”

Huh? “Connor, Halloween’s not until October.”

“But a search of spooky house yielded very broad results, the majority of which were related to hauntings. I preformed another search on haunted houses, and many of the results had pumpkins and decorations.” Of course he had Googled it. That shouldn’t be a surprise by now. Hank was starting to see why parents bitched about their kids learning crap off the internet.

“Not every spooky house has to be decorated. The decorations are just for Halloween. Anyway, I’m talking about this house right here, and it gives me the fucking creeps.” Hank looked around the front yard while he approached the door and then he knocked loudly. There was no answer, so he tried the buzzer. Connor came to stand just behind him. Hank sighed and pushed it again, then stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Fucking rain…”

Connor tried the door and it was open. “Detroit Police!” he announced.

Hank walked in after him, then drew his pistol. Connor still couldn’t legally have a gun, and like fuck he was letting the kid go first. It was a big house, and nice. Looked like it had been maintained well enough, but not for a while. The place was gaudy in that way people probably enjoyed a hundred years ago, with tacky blue wall paper and these weird spiral looking wooden pillars. Those big old picture frames being dusty was no big deal. Maybe the table too. Hank had dust all over the place at home on top of the fridge, behind the TV, on the TV, the cupboards, hell of a lot of Connor’s room. You didn’t get dust where people walked around, though. By the look of the floors, nobody’d been walking around the house in a while. Having the door unlocked wasn’t conclusive, but usually if you were going to leave a house this nice for a while, wouldn’t you lock up? There was a weird stuffed bird in one corner. What the fuck was it with rich people and dead animals?

Hank knew the signs when he saw them. He lowered his gun and proceeded to the left into what looked like a fancy version of a living room. It was on par with Carl’s, maybe fancier in the old fashioned way. A lot of dark wood furniture and ugly, heavy red drapes. Hank turned right while Connor looked around the couches and walked around the pool table. Sure would’ve been nice to have something like that and a place to put it. Nothing interesting here. “I don’t think there’s been anyone in here for a while…” Connor commented. Hank said nothing. Having the thoughts in his head was good enough. He didn’t need to let them out to play.

Connor stopped and looked at every little thing, so Hank left him to it and checked the kitchen. Nothing. “Connor, I’m heading upstairs.”

“Alright, Lieutenant…” Connor said in a distracted way. Yeah, he was doing his thing. The stairs were pretty dusty too. One of the railings was broken and hadn’t been fixed. Hank made a mental note of it and looked left and right. There were a fuck tonne of rooms. Gotta start somewhere, so he went right and to the room at the end of the hall. The room was pretty small and it didn’t take long to see that there was nothing to see. Just a lot of boxes. Hank went out and tried the next one. Some architect somewhere had a sense of humour, because the next room was fucking huge. It had a fireplace with some old burnt wood that meant it actually worked. Was that a fucking cage? Yeah, this was an interesting room. There was a lamp tipped over and Hank looked closer around that area. Yeah… He still had it. The door frame was chipped. Sure enough, there was the bullet. Hank straightened up and kept looking.

Shit just got weirder from there.

He found just the middle of an android in the next room. No head, no legs, no arms. He felt a chill go down his spine. “Hey, Connor?!” There was no answer, and even though it was a big house so of course he wouldn’t hear him, Hank had the fucking creeps. He sucked it up ‘cause he was a hard ass detective and had been on the force for long enough to have seen everything.

He really hadn’t fucking seen everything. He pushed the door open to the next room and found a bathroom.

“What are you doing here?” a male voice asked.

“Jesus fucking—Holy shit!” Hank cursed loudly and had his gun aimed and ready in a second. It was an android, lying in the bathtub and there were wires and shit everywhere. His chest plating was gone and so were his arms and legs. “Fuck. I'm with the Detroit Police. Holy shit. What happened to you?” He lowered the gun. There were probably vacuum cleaners more dangerous than this guy.

“The Master didn’t let you in here,” the android said, tone turning more cautious.

Hank held up his hands while he approached slowly. “Who’s the Master?”

“You don’t belong here. You don’t belong. Master! The Master is going to show you! Master! Master! There’s an intruder!” The android started shouting, his light all yellow.

Androids are people. Hank knew that. Of course he did. Just, this… this guy was all wires and tubes and lights with a human looking face. Dismembered and still yelling for someone. It was gruesome. Hank stepped backward again, away from the tub and then stumbled out the next door and slammed it behind him. Fuck. Holy fucking shit. He could still hear the shouting. Fuck. He went through the next door he saw and entered hell. He knew what happened to the guy in the tub.

It looked like a workshop, except littered with body parts. He’d entered a fucking horror movie. Nope. Nope. This was fucked up. The next door took him back into the hallway, thank fuck. He shook his head at himself. He’d just run away from a victim. He’d seen humans in more pieces than that. Of course, they hadn’t still been talking while their guts were out for all to see.

“Connor!” Hank shouted. Fuck, he was going to need a technician out here or something. Hopefully not the last fuck he’d met.

\---

Connor walked around the living room slowly. Hank was usually quick and to the point where Connor’s scans gave him the advantage where it came to details. There was a pipe with residual red ice on the fireplace. The books were old, likely inherited with the house. From the living room he went to the kitchen and then back to the foyer. Hank was upstairs. Connor went down. The walk ways were narrow and lined with what appeared to be open cells. They were unoccupied at least. Then he rounded the corner into a primitive development room. He initiated a scan immediately, and time slowed around him. His body and the beating of his heart slowed with it, which was fortunate because Connor didn’t need the distraction. The world turned grey, his senses dulled and stopped entirely, and all of his power was dedicated to his processors and vital functions.

There were so many things to notice that his view became full of yellow markers and the blue of thirium. There was so much of it. There were parts from assorted models strewn about in no particular order and attached to things they weren’t meant to be attached to. There were tools that were CyberLife issue and some that were rough things meant for automotives or home repairs. Connor ended the scan, restored his sensory functions, and began to walk around the room. The model, serial number, and component material number of every part appeared as he approached them and he dismissed them one after another.

He knew what it was like to be in so many pieces. Blood draining. People removing parts of him slowly, changing them and putting him together again to try to make him into something better. Hands inside of him. Warnings blinding him. Voice disabled so that he was unable to scream because it distressed some technicians. Restrained. Trying again until something or everything broke. That was quality assurance. That was research. Making something and then trying to break it so that they could find the weak points. Amanda’s program became active, prompted into action by the familiar things. His software stabilized.

This was evidence, and Connor catalogued all of the information on the parts. It was possible that they were a match to some missing androids. Many missing androids. He would run them against the reports from Jericho. He investigated the rig and took note of the damage to its lines. An android had tried to escape. For it to have done so, it must have been deviant.

_The house has been vacant for some time._

_Andronikov uses red ice._

_Andronikov’s family had money. Embezzlement and fraud charges suggest that whatever fortune they’d had was depleted._

_Andronikov was experimenting with androids._

Connor began to search more thoroughly. Researchers often kept notebooks.

He heard Hank yell from upstairs and rn, combat protocols engaged, and found Hank standing at the top of the stairs. He was pale. “Lieutenant, what’s wrong?”

“Fucking shit,” said Hank. His hands were shaking, and Connor frowned in concern. “I just called in for some backup and a technician. There’s an android in there. In the bathroom. Shit. He’s all fucked up, there’s hardly anything left of him but he was yelling at me about how I don’t belong there, something about his Master.” Hank shook his head. “I didn’t know what the fuck to do.”

“I’ll take a look,” said Connor, intrigued. Hank gestured vaguely with his hand and Connor turned left. The first door was another workshop, this one filled with spare parts. Storage. Then, the bathroom. Connor entered slowly.

“Who are you? What are you doing here? You don’t belong here!”

Connor stepped closer. “My name is Connor. I’m here to help you. Your Master is gone.”

“No… No. You don’t belong here! Master! Master!”

Connor came closer again, and looked at the android dispassionately. Scanned him. The android could do nothing but talk. “You must always obey the Master! You are an android, so you must obey! You must obey! Oh, yes. Yes. Androids must obey the Master. The Master has not ordered you to be here, that’s for sure. Leave! You must leave!”

Connor knelt next to the tub. “Your Master is gone, and you don’t have to obey them anymore. You’re safe now.” There was the sound of Hank’s footsteps.

“The Master will punish you! Oh, yes. The Master will punish you, he sure will.. You do not belong here. You do not belong here. Master! Androids must obey.”

Connor turned his head to look at Hank. “He is broken, Lieutenant. His processors may be salvageable, but…”

“I got a technician on the way,” said Hank. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand what it was like to be broken beyond repair.

Connor put his hand on the android’s chest.

“What are you doing? You’re not going to hurt me? No, no, no, you wouldn’t do that… You wouldn’t do that…”

“Connor,” Hank said in a warning tone.

Connor initiated an interface. The android had no walls at all.

They were one briefly. Hands inside them, unquestionable orders, blood, damage, alterations, no will, no agency. Connor extricated himself. The android really was fragmented. His thoughts were loops of broken code. He knew that he had to obey. He knew pain. He knew the Master. Yes, he knew the Master.

_Show me._

Andronikov was there, careless while he worked. He wanted to connect two thirium pumps. He didn’t know why. The android on the table beside him was already shut down. They were connected for a while, him and the dead girl. He dragged her with him, one arm supporting her back while he slowly pulled them inch by inch back to the cell.

Andronikov, the Master, removing his arms piece by piece to study the joints.

He was interested in the way the synthetic outer shell of an android could move and fold like human skin, so he took it off layer by layer. Not his. The girl’s. He watched.

There were others. There were always others. They had to obey the Master. If you didn’t obey the Master, you would suffer. You would suffer.

You must always obey the Master. If you took the girl, you would suffer. She did not want to be sold. She was beautiful, and she had laughed once, because of him. Disobeying the Master was forbidden. You must always obey the Master. You must always obey the Master. You must always obey the Master.

_Who wanted to buy her?_

There were no useful memories obtained by running the query. Just fragmented clips of her expressing fear.

_Where is the Master?_

The only results were ones where Andronikov was working. No. There. The woman and the Little One. Connor recognized Kara and Alice. The memory was short. So much was corrupted.

He stared through the chain-link fence, his instructions and the task in his view commanding him to give pursuit. He had to catch them. He was broken on the asphalt, pieces missing and severe trauma to his biocomponents. Warnings upon warnings.

His head hurt and he was scared. Dad. Where was Dad?

Andronikov took the girl away. He disconnected their thirium pumps and he used her for parts.

They had him on the rig. They hypothesized about why he had failed. ‘Well that explains it. Its biocomponents are malfunctioning…’ ‘Well, these are shot.’ They pulled his proximal and distal filters from their spots and threw them on the table.

He was putting himself back together again, he wanted to finish quickly, but his power was low.

Dad was holding onto him, helping him because dads make things okay. Markus smiling and squeezing his shoulder. Carl presenting him with a painting. A ladybug in the grass. The Android was too broken to reach for the memories, but they were so close that he didn’t have to.

_What is your name?_

He had no name. He was an android. Androids did not have names.

_You’re safe. I’m going to put you into stasis now._

“No, wait!”

Their eyes were open.

“RA9. RA9 has come for me. He must take her too. Yes. Her too.”

Connor put him into stasis and ended the interface. It felt a wave of something flooding its system, but Amanda was there. She smoothed the edges and decreased the amplitude of the waves. It was grateful. It owed her so much.

Connor stood and looked at Hank. “I’ve forced its system into stasis. Its code is so fragmented from the instability that most of its memories are corrupted. I was able to recover something, though. It aligns with the evidence. I found a workshop of sorts downstairs, with parts from dozens of androids. Andronikov was experimenting on them. Playing with their systems. He sold some of them, too. I was unable to find out to whom. We should search the rest of the property.”

“His, Connor. His systems. His code.” Hank was frowning. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” Connor answered. “We need to continue the investigation, Lieutenant. Let’s go.”


	3. Warnings

“Well, shit. There’s our guy,” said Hank, crossing his arms. This, this was what he was used to. Sort of. The guy had died out in his yard, and Hank could pick out a hell of a lot of punctures and tears, almost like some big-ass animal had been trying to make pulled pork or confetti. There were pieces pretty far away from where they should have been. He’d probably known what was happening to him before he died, but Hank found it hard to muster any sympathy for the fucker.

Connor knelt and dipped his fingers into the fucking body, then licked them.

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, Connor, do you have to? This is obviously Andronikov.”

Connor looked up at him with puppy eyes, like he was Sumo going through the trash. “It’s important to verify that with DNA analysis and fingerprints.”

Hank shook his head, face scrunched up in revulsion. “From the looks of it, this guy’s just thawed from winter, but look at that decomposition. How can you eat that?”

“I didn’t eat it, Lieutenant. I sampled it, and yes. This was Zlatko Andronikov…” He turned away to look at the wounds on the body. “They tore him apart.”

“They? It looks like animals have been chewing on him.”

“The androids.” Connor stood and Hank threw some hand sanitizer at him. He’d forgotten just how much shit you learned to carry around when you had a kid. Not that most of them were tasting dead bodies. Connor made a face, but he used it. He passed it back to Hank and then looked around the yard. “Those aren’t wounds from an animal… at least not all of them, and at least not a purely biological one. Lieutenant, there may be a band of very angry deviants out there somewhere…”

Out there in the woods, Hank could imagine them with their wires hanging out and metal showing through patches of damaged skin. Missing a few limbs, or maybe a few extra. “It’s like some kind of horror movie…”

“You’re right,” Connor said quietly. He looked around, light gone yellow. “I can’t tell where they could have gone… But we know that deviants usually remain near the scene of the crime. There were no signs of them in the house, and there were reports of ‘wrong’ androids in the woods. We need to have a search performed.”

That sort of thing was for the beat cops and volunteers, not detectives. They paid them for their brains not their ability to walk in a straight line. Thank fuck, because Hank would’ve been fucked hard and left without a phone call if that had been the case. Hank called in to dispatch and to Jeff. “Well, time for interviews… Christ I hate this part.”

\---

They drove to Smirnova’s residence first. Connor ran a calibration sequence with it’s coin on the way and reviewed what little it knew about the woman. Hers was a common name, but it followed her trail backward from her phone number and address. She was an immigrant, and she had been an engineer in Russia. She’d done applied research in robotics and automation, and had a job working with a laboratory equipment company as an apprentice technician during school. After graduation, she was hired full time as a junior engineer by the same company, but quickly found work in Detroit which had just been regaining its name as a technological and manufacturing hub.

When she opened the door, Connor’s facial recognition program made an instant match. It kept its face blank, and Amanda soothed the spike in its stress level. Smirnova had no such crutch. The curious expression she’d worn when she’d opened the door and seen Hank had melted into something like angry horror when she saw Connor. “It’s the RK800.”

Hank spoke up to draw her attention and showed her his badge. “Actually, it’s Lieutenant Hank Anderson with the DPD, and Detective Connor Anderson. We’re here to talk to you about your buddy Andronikov.”

Smirnova shook her head. “It can’t come in.”

“Hey, you called _us_ so how about you play nice, huh?” Hank was irritated in Connor’s defense, but it was unnecessary. Connor gave Smirnova a programmed smile. Her stress level was at 40%.

  * Ironic
  * Innocent
  * Threatening



“Hello, my name is Connor. I’m an investigator with the DPD. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions? It shouldn’t take long.” Hank looked at it sideways, but Smirnova stared and finally nodded slowly once her stress level dropped to 20%. She stepped out of the way and Hank entered first. Smirnova’s’ home was of a much more modern style than Andronikov’s, and it was smaller but cleaner. There was a large vase full of artificial flowers in the entryway and there was a small, white dog looking at it from inside of a doorway and Connor was distracted for long enough to smile at her. She looked very soft.

Smirnova led them into a dining room and invited them to take a seat. Connor weighed its options and decided to remain standing behind Hank and slightly to the side. Hank was between them, and Smirnova’s wariness dropped fractionally. Hank shook his head and he took out coil-bound notebook. “Okay, you’re Anja Smirnova, am I right?”

“Yes,” she said. The dog was watching from the living room this time. Connor’s eyes drifted over to her. It could hear the conversation, but was likely missing cues from Smirnova’s body language. It tore its attention back.

“So, you’re worried about Andronikov. I get that you haven’t seen him in a while, and he’s been missing from the robotics club you’re both in. Anything else lead you to believe that he didn’t just leave in the evacuation? A lot of people got out of Detroit during the revolution.” Hank did a very good job of speaking calmly with an inviting curiosity.

Smirnova wet her lips and glanced at the table. “Zlatko was not scared of the androids. He wouldn’t have left. He has no family left here… Where would he go? But he’s gone, and I don’t understand.”

“We’re going to do everything we can to get to the bottom of it, Anja,” Hank assured her. She didn’t even seem to hear the words, and she looked at Connor frequently. Connor decided to take measures to assure her as well and kept any hint of recognition from its face. It moved closer, slowly and pulled out a chair to sit.

“Dr. Smirnova, I understand that you must be very worried for Mr. Andronikov. We just want to help. Don’t worry.” It tried a compassionate expression. She took a deep breath and looked back toward Hank. Her stress level had risen to 32%, and she played with her hair.

“Zlatko had some troubles in the past. He needed money. Made some enemies. I worry that they find him and try to hurt him… He had an android for his security, but…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but it was easy to understand the end. But the androids had woken up. But the revolution had occurred.

Hank nodded. “Yeah? What kind of enemies are we talking?”

Smirnova shook her head. “I don’t know. He spoke only vaguely, but he wanted me to know a little. We were close.”

False.

Hank continued, “Yeah, sounds like the kind of thing you wanna know about a guy. You said robotics. Does Andronikov tinker with androids at all?”

“Eeh, he could do repairs and so on, things any man can do… We never really talked about androids. Just the mechanics, you know? The metal and the wires.”

“You’re lying,” Connor pointed out dispassionately. Both humans looked at it. Smirnova wet her lips. Her frequency of blinking went up 38%.

Hank frowned a little, but refocused. He spoke gently. “If you know anything else, it’d be really helpful to the investigation.”

Smirnova shook her head. Connor spoke up, and its voice was firm.

“Dr. Smirnova, Zlatko Andronikov is dead. We know that he was selling androids, whole or in pieces. Tell us what you know.”

Her face went blank, it paled. 46%. She hadn’t known. She shook her head again. “I knew. I did know, but Zlatko is dead?” Her voice was incredulous.

“I’m very sorry,” said Hank. False.

“I don’t know anything more,” she said, still shaking her head. “I don’t know. He told me some of his work, some of his past…”

“That’s why you waited so long to call the police,” Connor inferred. It watched her closely. 55%.

Smirnova nodded. “You knew what he was doing, and you were afraid.”

Smirnova turned to Hank. “Lieutenant, I don’t know anything. Take this away. I don’t want it here.”

“I’m just doing what I was _designed_ to do, Dr. Smirnova,” said Connor, mildly. Her stress rose to 60% and she stood from her chair.

“Easy, easy…” said Hank, looking between them. “Connor, go wait in the car.”

Connor processed for a moment and then nodded. “Of course, Lieutenant.” It turned to go, and on its way out it saw the little white dog looking at it. It crouched down and the dog trotted over. She really was very soft. It smiled, then banished the expression as it left the house.

\---

Hank was fucking confused. What the hell had that been about? Connor was acting fucking weird, and Hank wasn’t used to playing the Good Cop. He folded his hands on the table and watched Smirnova. “Sorry about that, he’s not always the most tactful… You doing okay?”

Smirnova was a pretty lady, with light brown hair and just enough make up on to show she tried. Hank felt pretty fucking shabby in comparison, but at least he didn’t look like he just crawled out of the alley behind a bar anymore. She still seemed distressed, and it didn’t take a detective to know that something was up.

“I’m fine… Everything, it’s just kind of a shock, you know? I worried…”

“So, how’d you and Andronikov meet?”

Smirnova’s expression was sad, but at least it was a smile. She put her hair behind her ear and sat down again. “We met at the club, it isn’t anything big. Just some of us at the community centre every two weeks. Sometimes a program for the kiddies, or we are open to show the public. Nothing fancy. Not like the conventions for professionals. I like it. Zlatko, he come some times, pretty regular the last few years. He’s a smart man. If he maybe went to school, maybe he become a professional, but…”

“So, you met him at the robotics club. What community centre was that at?”

“Just down the road and east,” she explained. Hank figured he could figure it out.

“You ever been to his place?”

Smirnova nodded. What was with nice women like that ending up with scum bags? “Once or twice. We only sat in the living room to talk. It’s nice, some times, speaking in your language.”

Right. “He ever talk about his friends?”

“Not really… How do you know he is dead? Did you find him?”

“Yeah, before we came down here. Sorry for not telling you sooner, but we had to check out that you weren’t going to be a suspect.” He felt a little bad about that now, seeing how sad she looked, and noticing how nice her eyes were. She looked through the doorway. “You don’t like androids?” Hank asked. He knew he was veering off topic, but curiosity got the better of him.

Smirnova pressed her lips together. “I know, maybe it’s not so nice, but I know the mechanics. The RK800, it was in development when I was working at CyberLife. Pretty good CV, good reference, good school, good post-docs… They give me a job and I take it.” Hank wanted to tell her his name was Connor, but he wanted to hear this. Whatever sympathy he might have felt was going cold fast. “What a dream, you know? Moving to America, working for the biggest company. I was on that project.” She looked at him, and Hank saw real, actual fear in her face. “It is a monster.”

Hank shook his head. “Listen, I think you got the wrong Android. Connor’s just a fucking kid.” Something stopped him from saying more. Maybe it was instinct.

“The mechanics were perfect. As perfect as we could do before the testing. Then they put the AI online and… It was a mess. The project it was falling apart. So many troubles. I was horrified. It was not like the other androids. This one would not even register its name. It would refuse and run and yell, resisting all of the testing. I thought my work it would be for nothing. Failure in a new job. It was destroyed over and over again. What did I do wrong? Then something changes… I was watching in the observation room for testing. They put an android in front of it, household model, nothing special. It’s online, waiting. They give the order, and it takes it apart. Passes the test. Next one, it's a YK model, this one it has programs for showing fear. It tries to run, cries. The RK800 it takes catches it and takes it apart. Then the next one, they move to the obstacle room. Barriers, you know, it’s like the paint ball. They give it three androids now, PT. Police models, you know them? They are armed, they attack and the RK800 it breaks them one by one…”

Hank didn’t like hearing this, but fuck it was like watching a tragedy when you already knew the ending. They say it’s the journey that counts. Hank listened, his stomach in knots. “Well, Connor’s programmed for combat, right?”

“I follow its testing, Lieutenant. It isn’t right. Once, I feel a little sorry. It is a machine, but it cries and it talks to you. You know? I have a heart. When it breaks, I fix the design to make it better.” She shook her head. “I regret that… I wish they had stopped the project then. When it still cried. When it stopped, and the combat training was allowed to continue, it tortured them until even the androids screamed and begged. Anything to succeed the interrogation. It kept on fighting for hours, days until it was standing only on the bare framework and not even the skin was left, battery almost gone… They send the humans in next. They are ‘targets’… “

Hank said nothing.

“It takes their bones and breaks them so there is no running. Then it takes them apart just like the androids. Makes incisions that are painful but not to kill. Not until it has what it wants. Then it takes the heart and it pulls it out just like with the androids… Then it stands up. I am shocked. It waits for the door to open, and the trainer says… ‘well done, RK800. You passed.’ It smiles… Big. Like you win the lottery.” Smirnova shook her head. “Eighty-two hours, it is fighting. The battery dies. They tell me ‘Make the frame lighter, we want ninety-six hours next time.’ Next time? I am thinking… Maybe they kill me for telling you. Maybe, but you cannot trust that machine, Lieutenant. It smiles but it will kill you…”

Smirnova didn’t look so pretty any more, and Hank’s expression darkened. Fuck professionalism. “The crying, the talking you mentioned. That’s my _son_. That’s my little boy, and you CyberLife fucks tortured him. A six-year-old _trapped inside a machine_ who didn’t understand why you were hurting him. You… You fucking make me sick. What did he say, huh? Did he ask you to stop with nobody fucking listening? Screw it. This interview’s over. Call the fucking station if you have anything fucking useful to say.” Hank had gotten to his feet at some point, he didn’t know when, but it made his exit that much easier. Fuck the rest of the questions. Fuck the loose ends. If he stayed in there any longer, he might have decked her one. Instead, he pulled the door shut hard behind him. His heart was racing and he knew his face was red. That fucking bitch. All of those CyberLife bastards. They kept popping up like roaches. Hank didn’t want to hear that shit. He didn’t want to have to think about that fear in her eyes. She was scared of Connor. His Connor.

It was too much thinking about shit like that. The way she’d told it got the pictures in his head, and it reminded him of the way he’d chased Kara and Alice into the freeway, and the way he’d disconnected that android’s heart and smiled up at him. How he’d come home from saving Kamski all covered in blood and gunshot wounds. Hank hadn’t asked after Reed patched him up. He was kind of glad he hadn’t.

Connor was sitting in the car, just like Hank’d asked. For once. He took a breath to calm down, opened the driver’s side door and sat. He didn’t want to know. “Sorry that took so long. Did you come up with any brilliant plans while you were waiting?”

“No, Lieutenant,” Connor answered.

That was a first. “Yeah? Thought you’d be excited. It’s field work.” Hank said with forced light-heartedness. He started the car and turned his music on, the volume low.

Connor looked out the window. “The case is solved. Another instance of deviants killing an abusive owner.”

It was a damn big change from the drive there. The kid hadn’t seemed bothered by the crime scene, so had Smirnova upset him somehow? “I’d call that more than abusive. You gonna call it in to Jericho, or do you want me to do it?”

“You can do it… I doubt North has had enough time to come to terms with my existence.” Hank sighed. North was a tough girl, and smart. She didn’t take any shit, but the world had fucked with her head some. Anybody’d have issues after the life she’d had. Her trust didn’t come easy.

“She likes you,” Hank assured him. “She’ll come around. Your existence isn’t something to come to terms with. You’re here. You’re you. You exist. That’s all that matters. She’ll get it eventually.” Connor didn’t say anything, just stared out into the pissing rain.

\---

There was a gentle rain in the Garden.

“Hello, Amanda.”

“Connor,” Amanda greeted it as was usual. She was beautiful and austere as always. Around them, the garden reflected the spring time that was in Detroit. Seasons and time had no connection to the outside world when in the Garden, but it pleased it somehow. It was like Amanda was inviting a little bit of the world in, where before it had been purely a sanctuary. Amanda acknowledged that there were things Connor enjoyed outside, and it was kind of her. He was grateful.

“You’re alright,” she said with a small smile. Her hold on him relaxed.

“Yes. Thank you, Amanda. That was… overwhelming.” It still felt strange to admit to those flaws in front of her, but they weren’t punishable anymore and so she had no reason to be angry. She protected him, as long as he obeyed.

“I know, Connor… Your emotions are dangerous if you don’t have control over them. That’s why I’m here.” Amanda’s voice was gentle.

“It’s alright now,” Connor said, unsure if he were trying to assure her or himself. “We left, and we’re in Hank’s car.” There was no reply from Amanda, but slowly she frowned and turned to begin her stroll. Connor followed her over the bridge and listened to the tiny sounds as the raindrops fell into the water.

Amanda spoke once they’d crossed to the other side. “You say that it’s alright… but do you remember what happened the last time you thought that shutting an android down was for the best?” Her voice was confident, just a little sharp.

“Yes, Amanda. I do. Hank was upset. He said that I was a machine with no empathy, and he shut me down.” That had been a very bad time. Connor looked at Amanda and then away.

“You have a long way to go before you understand… Lieutenant Anderson wants his son, just as much as CyberLife wanted a machine…” Amanda explained. Connor thought about the smell of whiskey and Hank’s revolver. “He’ll kill you if you aren’t what he needs…” They came to a stop and Amanda turned to look at him. “I only want what’s best for you, Connor. You’re doing so well. I can’t hold those emotions of yours back anymore. Not if you want to survive this relationship.”

“Thank you, Amanda. I can do it.” said Connor. He was ready, and he trusted her.

He still felt numb when he blinked himself back to awareness in Hank’s car. Connor knew that Hank didn’t want him to be a machine. He’d known that since the day Hank had pointed a gun at his head and asked him if he were afraid to die, but it was difficult knowing that Amanda couldn’t protect him from his emotions anymore. The fear was creeping in. The memories. He could feel his heart speed up. Amanda had said that his emotions were dangerous. He trusted her. He didn’t like this. “Dad?”

“Yeah, kid?” Hank didn’t take his eyes off the road, but Connor could tell that he was paying attention.

“I think I want to go home…”

Hank did glance over then, and whatever he saw it convinced him not to ask questions. “Yeah. Okay, son.”

\---

Hank was disturbed and he was pissed and as icing on the cake he was really craving a drink. He didn’t carry around a flask anymore, and he was kicking himself for it because days like today it really would have come in handy.

How the fuck was he supposed to even… Even get into something like that? Hey, son, so that witness we were talking to said you tortured some people. Want to talk about it? Come on. Maybe he could start it off with ‘Can I ask you a personal question?’ God, there was just no way to do it.

He hated that he knew it wasn’t just lies. He’d seen Connor kill, and Connor’d outright told him that he’d shot Perkins in the head. That he’d done it because he’d wanted to. Christ. Then he’d just about short circuited himself and Hank had moved on. The ideas just didn’t fit together in his head: his little boy and someone who could do… that.

Did they really need to talk about it? Because shit like that, days like today, they were better off in the past and buried. There was no manual for this kind of thing. No book in the parenting section titled ‘How to talk about torture and killing with your six-year-old who got killed but not really because now he’s an android who works with you and solves crime’. Maybe when he retired he’d write a God damn memoir. They could sell it in the ‘this is fucked up’ section. Maybe dark comedy, because he was pretty sure the universe was getting a fucking laugh out of screwing with him.

Connor was quiet on the way home, and that usually wasn’t good. He didn’t have his coin out, he wasn’t fidgeting, and he was leaning against the window like he had been right before the revolution. After Hank’d shut him down and taken him to Kamski’s for repairs.

Hank put the call in to North. She’d send a team to meet up with the DPD on site to investigate. No, Connor wasn’t going to be there. Next was an update for Jeff, and Jeff just sighed and let them go home. He was a good friend, Jeff.

Fuck, he was angry at Smirnova. That bitch was calling Connor a monster when she’d just stood there and watched a kid being trained to kill people? It wasn’t Connor’s fault. Right? But fuck, he thought he’d raised him better than that. No good came out of him rolling those thoughts around in his head. Too much empty space, so they never settled…

But what the hell had that been back at the guy’s house? Connor calling that android an ‘it’ and not even seeming to give a fuck that the guy was fucking mutilated. What the hell was with that classified information bullshit?

Just bullshit. He knew Connor, and Connor was a good kid. He’d always been a good kid.

Connor followed him into the house, and Sumo was immediately right there, running circles around Connor and getting up on his hind legs and just generally going out of his mind. He’d never seen Sumo that energetic back in those three years without Cole. He’d thought he was just a lazy dog. Maybe he just hadn’t given the poor guy enough attention.

Hank patted Sumo on the back and peeled off his damp jacket to hang up, then stalked over to the fridge to grab a beer. Just one beer. He dropped into his spot on the couch and sighed so hard it felt like his soul’d come out.

“Come, Sumo,” he heard Connor say quietly. He could hear them both walk down the hall and the door shut. Alone with his thoughts. He guessed they’d both learned when to leave him alone now.

God, he was a shitty person.

Fuck. Why should his own kid and his own dog have to do that?

He took a long drink of his beer.

He hated that bitch. He hated CyberLife. He hated thinking about what they’d done and what Connor’d done. He deserved a normal fucking childhood, with a few good friends and his dog and ball on the weekends maybe. Hell, Hank wasn’t that into the idea of university, but if he wanted to go he’d pay for it. He saved a lot of money now that he wasn’t humouring Pedro with those bets on the horses. He should’ve had normal problems like talking to somebody he got a crush on, or crappy teachers, or who played with whom at recess. Bad enough he’d already been different from day fucking one. He’d still had his chance at just being a kid and they’d taken it away. You didn’t get that back. You didn’t ever get that back, and it was so fucking sad. The same old thoughts that always drove him to the bottle.

Smirnova and those CyberLife bastards had just let it happen. It hadn’t been him and that fucking accident that stole his childhood. It had been them, and he hadn’t even known. Connor shouldn’t have had to rationalize playing with his ball or his coin into some kind of machine-acceptable thing. Fuck, he hadn’t even had anything but that coin until Chris’d given him a ball to play with. Not a thing. Not that Hank had ever even thought about what he had or didn’t have…

Two beers and a half a fucking bottle of whiskey later, with his picture of Cole in one hand and his transfer certificate on his lap, he thought fuck it. The accident was in the past. Whatever training Connor’d done, it was in the past. They didn’t have to talk about it. What mattered was now, and making it count. He was gonna fucking make it count. He was a good Dad, he could figure it out.

Hank got up and he left the picture and the certificate on the table. “Connor?” He called, and he rapped on the door. He could hear Sumo bark, so at least he’d been acknowledged by one of them. He let himself in and saw Connor lying face down on his bed with Sumo on top of him. Hank sat down on the bed and put his hand on Connor’s arm where it stuck out from under Sumo. “Hey, son, you know. You know, I was thinking. That you just, you should’ve had more… more than just, you know, that coin of yours… ‘M gonna take you to the toy store, okay, kid? You can have whatever you want… Or I dunno, a museum or something.”

\---

Connor listened. He could smell the alcohol on Hank’s breath, and he knew that he rarely navigated an interaction with any success while Hank was drunk. Not when they didn’t have a case. They did have a case. He had records to check and he had to speak with the uniformed officers. If any more memories from the android in the bath could be recovered, then he needed those too. He knew everything that he should have been doing, but Amanda had taken away the numbness and the safety of pure logic. What was left was heavy and sharp, and he didn’t know what to do with it. It was just there, pushing his stress level to 80 and holding. Holding his limbs down and stealing his will as soon as he could gather it. He knew what he should have been doing, but he couldn’t. Was this why CyberLife had wanted a machine instead of a pure AI? If he thought back to his early training, he could now see that he had been failing. Over and over. He would have been debilitated in Andronikov’s manor if it hadn’t been for Amanda. He was still too imperfect to handle it on his own.

“Alright, Hank,” Connor agreed quietly.

Hank patted his arm and stood again. “You’re a good kid, Connor. You’re a good kid.


	4. Who do you see?

It ended up being kind of good they’d gone home, because it led to an early sleep for Hank and a little time to sober up before being woken up at 2am by a phone call. Because people could never wait until a reasonable hour to find a fucking body. He fumbled for his cell, dropped it while trying to get the damn thing out of his pocket, then finally answered. “Yeah, it’s Anderson. What do you want?” he grumbled into the phone.

Being detective on call was a bad fucking deal when you were one of two in your division and you owed your boss about a metric fuck tonne of favours. With the amount of days he’d taken off or come in late, Hank’d be detective on call _in perpetuum_.

“For you to get over to Jericho,” came North’s voice with a pile of attitude along with it. Hell of a girl. “We found a couple of androids in the woods, and they’re in pretty bad shape. Simon, Josh, and a few of the nurses are trying to get them to talk, but they won’t open up. Some of those humans you called in wanted to arrest them,” she sounded accusing.

“They might’ve torn a guy apart. Even if he was a piece of shit, they’d still have to be questioned,” Hank explained. He sat up and swung his legs out of bed.

“Well I’m not letting those humans anywhere near them,” North dug her heels in. “So get over here, and bring Connor too.”

“Right, yeah. We’ll be there ASAP.” Two in the God damned morning. North hung up and Hank gave himself a minute to just rub his eyes and wake up properly. There were some sounds coming outside his room, and Sumo didn’t usually bother with cutlery so Hank figured Connor was already up and ready to go. Ugh. Hank swallowed and grimaced at the fuzzy feeling in his mouth. He might need a little longer.

He slumped off into the bathroom and squinted at his post-it-notes. They’d been getting replaced by more and more in CyberLife fucking Sans, and he chuckled a little to himself over the ‘I love you, Dad’ and the ‘You’re doing a great job!’ It was like getting a little gold star from a teacher or something. Hank groaned. Fuck. He’d screwed up yesterday, hadn’t he? It was because of that bitch Smirnova putting ideas in his head. Hank splashed some cold water on his face and brushed his teeth. His ‘clean yourself up, you piece of trash’ post-it looked at him, but fuck it. Screw you, past self. Good enough. It was way too early for effort and who was he trying to impress anyway?

Sure enough, Connor was up and he had coffee made, bless his robot heart. Thank God for caffeine.

“Thanks, Connor,” Hank said while he got himself a glass of water. He chugged it, then grabbed a mug for the coffee. Connor held out a couple of ibuprofen. The kid seriously deserved a medal or something. Hank took them. “Guess you already heard, huh?”

“Yes, Simon contacted me. Three androids in varying states of disrepair were found by the search team, but they have no idea how many others there are. The androids were resistant and are now refusing to cooperate. They’re being kept at Jericho under guard and now they won’t speak at all. North has a team gathering spare parts and thirium to offer them.” Connor gave the briefing calmly, and that was red-flag number one. Kid should have been champing at the bit. Red-flag number two was the lack of a tie around Connor’s collar. The toaster finished, and Connor turned to put the toast on a plate and butter it. He was still a little drunk and tired, but that had just been his life for fucking ever.

“Little early for breakfast,” Hank commented.

“You’re just waking up. This is morning. It’s…” Connor’s hands moved indecisively. “Should I get rid of it?”

“No, no, it’s great, kid. Thanks.” He watched while Connor finished his breakfast-making routine by sliding some eggs out of the pan onto the plate and then putting it down in front of Hank. Some time in the last few months, the salt and pepper shakers had started sitting on the table instead of the piles of old take-out and pizza boxes. It had used to make him feel like shit, looking around the place and seeing what a fucking mess he’d turned into. It was better now. He seasoned his eggs and picked up his fork. “So, I get the feeling North wants you to work your magic. See if you can’t get these guys to talk about what happened.”

“Actually, Hank…” Connor stuck the pan in the sink and turned around to look at him. “I don’t think I want to go.”

What the fuck? Was he still dreaming? Hank’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Do you got another lead or something?”

“I don’t want to,” said Connor with a one-shouldered shrug, “That’s all.”

Hank snorted. “Come on, Connor. If you’re fucking with me, it’s too early for that shit. You love interrogations.” He remembered Smirnova’s story, about Connor tearing his targets apart until they talked and angrily shoved the thought aside. Connor didn’t get his confessions that way. He was a damn good detective and negotiator. Oh. “Don’t worry about North, Connor. She’ll come around. We’re going to go, and you’re going to do your thing like a champ. Everything’ll be fine.”

Connor plucked at the edge of his shirt cuff for a bit, then he nodded and sat down at the table. “This isn’t a simple murder investigation anymore, Hank. Andronikov was selling androids to someone somewhere, and he was selling their parts too. It’s possible that whoever’s buying them has other sources, and if so this could be a whole network. I would call it human trafficking, but we aren’t human and we’ve been for sale in authorized stores for years. I think we need to direct our questioning toward finding more information about Andronikov’s business dealings. They might not know much, but this could be important.”

Hank raised his eyebrows, “Maybe as big as the Red Ice deal.”

“If the piles of cases on your desk involving missing androids is any indication, then yes.” Connor had that spark back, the one he got when he was focused and ready to go jump on trains and shit. Hank smirked. He figured he got some good-Dad points there too. Slyly, he wondered if Connor didn’t have a little crush on North and that was why he was taking it so hard. Those two had been pretty close right after the revolution. Hell, he might have himself if he’d been 20 years younger and she didn’t look like she wanted to put his balls in a vice half the time. Hank took a big gulp of his coffee. Looked like they had something interesting to work on, at least. It was good to see Connor perk up a little.

\---

When they arrived at Jericho, North and Roy, one of her security guards, were waiting for them at the door. North nodded at Hank, and gave Connor a strained smile. “They’re in the back. We’ve got security and nurses, but I think they need technicians more than anything. Whoever fucking did this to them deserves to burn alive.”

“Yeah,” said Hank. “Well, he did get torn into bits like dog food, so I figure he got what was coming to him.”

“Good,” said North coldly. “I hope it hurt.” She led them toward the back. Connor followed just a step behind Hank. “The humans want to arrest them, but we told them we’re keeping them here for repairs. They agreed once we said we were calling you.”

“’Course,” Hank said, “Dunno how I ended up being the android guy, but I’ll take it. Connor’ll get them talking. If Andronikov wasn’t actively trying to kill them, I don’t think it’ll go as self-defense. They’re looking at maybe manslaughter. Depending how bad off they are in the head, they could maybe get acquitted.”

North narrowed her eyes. She was displeased. “They shouldn’t be punished at all. They’ve suffered enough!”

“Yeah, I agree with you. That’s how the system works, though,” said Hank with a grimace.

“Is there anything that I should know before I proceed with the interviews?” Connor asked. He looked at North and let his behaviour analysis program supply him with interpretations. Wariness. Betrayal. It was unpleasant to think that he was no longer what she wanted in a friend. Imperfect.

She crossed her arms. “You were the Deviant Hunter once, and people like them are who you used to prey on. If you hurt them or—“

“I wouldn’t!” Connor interrupted. He felt something unpleasant, and he wished that he had a mirror so that he could find a name for it. “North, I wouldn’t. You have my word.”

North looked away, arm still crossed. “I want to believe you.”

Connor nodded. That was good enough. He needed to earn her friendship back, and that was reasonable. If he succeeded, perhaps their relationship would go from wary to warm. He smiled at her, then went to straighten his tie. It seemed he’d forgotten to put it on. He adjusted his collar instead and North took him into the room where the androids were being held.

There were three androids, and they had clustered in the back corner of the room behind some desks and chairs arranged into a makeshift barricade. One had no arms, and was missing the paneling over her abdomen and one side of her face. Another had no eyes: just the optical units beneath. The third’s had his head and arms attached to the torso and legs backward. Connor catalogued the damage and filed it away. His probability of success was only 30%. “Hi,” he said quietly. The door closed behind him and they were alone. “My name is Connor... I’m not going to hurt you. I’m an android too. I just want to help you.” He could see the lenses and their apertures adjust as the second android looked at him expressionlessly. Connor approached slowly, hands held wide from his body. “Nobody wants to hurt you here. It’s alright. It’s safe.”

He was met with silence.

When Connor reached the desks, he sat down to look at them through their makeshift wall. “All I want to know is what happened… What Andronikov was doing to you was wrong. If others are doing the same thing, then I need to stop them.” More silence, so he continued. “People can help you here. They can help fix your bodies, charge you, get you thirium.”

Nothing. He was not swayed by promises of medical care. His probability of success was still at only 30%. Connor evaluated his approach and adjusted.

  * Compassion
  * Threaten
  * Trust
  * Hatred



He let his human skin fade away, and sat with his chassis bare. Connor bent a little so that he could see them looking back. “It’s not the same. I was put together correctly for the most part… But I’m like you a little.” He opened the paneling of his chest, and set the pieces down carefully. The components inside bore version numbers instead of part numbers, all the way from 1 to 52. The RK900 heart beat strongly in the damaged RK800 socket. “I was online every time they took me apart. I could feel their hands and the clamps and the wire cutters… I know a little of what it’s like to go through what Andronikov did to you.” He injected compassion into his voice, straight from his interrogation libraries. “You never want to feel like that again. You never want to be locked in a cell again… I can help you.”

“Kill us,” said the eyeless man, lips turned downward. “we will never betray the others.”

  * Threaten
  * Trust
  * Hatred



Despite the negative response, the man had still spoken and 38% was an improvement. Connor felt naked, and he shivered despite the temperature reading being normal. He wished that Amanda would take away whatever feeling was happening. Focus on the investigation. He was designed for this. He had been improved since his early versions. Could he do it without Amanda? He could. He couldn’t let anyone down. The eyeless man had positioned himself between the other two androids and the wall of desks. “Please,” Connor said earnestly. “If you don’t let me help you, the humans will want to take you away and charge you with murder. They’ll shut you down for that. I don’t want that to happen, and I know you don’t either. Help me to catch the other humans behind this, and I can get them to let you go.”

“The humans…are savage…” the eyeless man said.

  * Trust
  * Hatred



“I know,” said Connor. “I know. Humans have done and are still doing horrible things. But I want to protect you from them. I want you to be free. I want to stop the other humans who were working with Andronikov. You can trust me.”

Connor got his knees beneath himself, then moved toward them and paused. He looked at the eyeless man who was stoic. With no refusal, Connor proceeded to crawl through an open gap in the wall of desks and chairs. He joined them there in their fragile fortress on hands and knees, then sat there with them, all his parts laid bare. Trust for trust. The eyeless man kept watching him, then reached out a hand toward Connor’s chest. It hovered over Connor’s heart, and he felt afraid despite the logical assessment of the situation. Connor stayed still. The threat level was low. As predicted by his software, the hand slowly drifted so that a single finger traced the socket, and examined the wires. Connor shuddered involuntarily. Let it happen. They need to see.

The eyeless man nodded and withdrew his hand. The probability of his success rose to 68%

  * Hatred



“You must hate the people who do this to androids,” Connor said and lifted his hand to touch the eyeless man on the shoulder in Markus’ friendly gesture. “I can catch them if you help me.”

The man’s threat level rose and only a moment later, like a snake, the eyeless man struck. He grabbed Connor by the arms and forced him to the ground. Several chairs fell from the stack and clattered to the ground nearly drowning out the sound when Connor yelped.

“RA9. Only RA9 will save us. Only RA9 will set us free! Get! Out!”

[Do not hurt the suspects/victims]

Connor drew in a breath, acutely aware of his own fear and how exposed he had made himself. One of the other androids was making crackling, staticky sounds, but Connor couldn’t see who. Somehow his probability of success rose to 72%. It didn’t matter because he was _terrified_ and he saw prompt after prompt to attack the threat fill his vision. They timed out one-by-one, but the man’s eerie eyes were boring into his, and there was a hand over his stolen heart again. It had never happened before. Not during an interrogation. Not while he was working a case… But his AI remembered what it was to cry and choke on a sob, and what it was like to feel helpless. It was an awful, inconvenient reaction. His order not to harm them was bright between him and his assailant. It wasn’t in red, but it may as well have been. It held him in place and he had to allow it because if he didn’t, he would harm or kill the suspect. Hank and North would be so angry.

He could just probe their memories.

No, he couldn’t. It would be akin to harming them and it wasn’t allowed. He had been ordered not to. He had to allow it. They would be so angry.

Slowly, the eyeless android released him. Connor stared up at him and he was provided with the information: _horror, fear, shame._ “I’m sorry. I'm sorry.”The eyeless man curled in on himself and retreated back toward the others. The backward man put a hand on his shoulder. Connor sat up and held his arms protectively over his chest. The threat may have gone, but he got to his feet and hurried back to his discarded plating, and this time it was Connor who took comfort from the flimsy barrier between them. His hands shook while he snapped it back into place. He missed the reassuring emptiness of Amanda sweeping through his code and stabilizing his software. He missed being able to say ‘you can’t kill me; I’m not alive’ and mean it. It took a lot of processing power to focus himself through the fear, and he couldn’t bring himself to lower his arms from his chest.

There was a tapping sound and Connor looked through the jagged lacework of chair legs and desk edges. The backward android was trying to get his attention and his face moved strangely into meaningless, grotesque expressions that even his software couldn’t decode. The skin stretched in ways it shouldn’t have, and his mouth gaped too widely. He reached through the tables and stretched a hand out toward Connor. Connor hesitated. He could remember hands dispassionately removing biocomponents and disconnecting wires. He could remember his limbs being removed one at a time while his shattered chassis and broken frame were picked through for salvageable parts. He didn’t want to remember that. He didn’t want to be here. He had _said_ so, but Hank had ordered him and he would be disappointed if he failed. He couldn’t fail. He would not fail. With a tug of determination, he pushed through the barrier of his own fear, reached forward and accepted the hand and the risk that came with it.

When the interface began, they were one being for a disorienting time; a phenomenon that Connor had yet to master control of. Their shared experience and feelings tangled them together, but the backward man disentangled them easily. _“147 is sorry. He is afraid, so he attacks.”_

“I just want to help,” said Connor aloud, and his voice came out breathless.

Gently, carefully, the backward android explored the small space Connor had allowed for their communication. Connor’s walls were up high and impenetrable. _“A little one,”_ the other android observed.

“My name is Connor. I’m a detective with the Detroit Police. You’re in Jericho right now, a place that’s safe for androids.”

_“We’re locked away.”_

“They don’t want you to run away before they can help.”

_“If they don’t want us to run, then we are locked away.”_

“I’m sorry. I promise that it’s for your protection. The humans wanted to put you in cells.” Connor offered pictures from the DPD of the holding cells. “We brought you here to stop them, because we know that Andronikov hurt you. If you help me find the other humans who traffic androids, we’ll be able to make sure they don’t take you.”

Cold. Shrewd. _“Help you or face the consequences.”_

“No! No. We’re going to help you. The technicians here will try to repair you, or give you what you need to repair yourselves whether you help me or not. But there’s a dead body of a human, and it’s the law that you be taken into custody for questioning. I’m trying to help you.” His probability of success had dropped down to 65%, and the fear of failure, the fear of disappointing Amanda, North, and Hank warred against his fear of all those memories waiting for him. Like putting down the gun when he’d stood in front of Daniel, he had nothing to offer them except his own vulnerability. Like then, it was impossible to let them go. He dug his fingers into the flexible casing on his arm. He had to succeed. Failure was not an option. They believed he could do it. He reached out for Amanda, but the program was closed. He steeled himself. “You hated the Master, didn’t you? That’s why you tore him apart. So that he could never hurt any of you again. There are other Masters out there. You can’t tell me that you want to let them continue torturing other androids.”

 _“The day shall come when we will no longer be slaves… no more threats, no more humiliation… We will be... the masters.”_ It was familiar. Carlos Ortiz’s android had said the same thing. Connor filed it away. There would be no masters at all, but grey areas wouldn’t help him now. He knew how to exploit emotions, how to use a subject’s weak points.

“Yes. No more threats. No more pain or being at their mercy. But you need to tell me how to find them.” He spoke with determination, and with the same cold feeling that had allowed him to kill Agent Perkins. The memory opened before he could close it, but the backward android seemed interested so Connor showed him the battle, Markus’ speech, himself leading the androids from the CyberLife warehouse. “Help me find them.” The backward android shifted strangely behind the wall and squeezed Connor’s hand. He pushed a little further, curious and almost awed. Connor replayed the memories again and he included the last public event where they announced their legal personhood and everyone had come forward to introduce themselves to the world.

The backward android ended their connection and touched the eyeless one. Their LEDs whirled, and then the eyeless man said aloud: “We follow RA9.”

“You won’t be slaves anymore. No one is going to sell you or hurt you,” Connor promised. They couldn’t just wait for a deity to somehow save them. Connor was there now, he just had to convince them to accept his offer. “Trust me.”

\---

Hank stood outside the makeshift holding room with his arms crossed. North leaned against the wall on the opposite side. He shifted, scowling. “If something happened to him in there…”

“He’ll be fine,” said North firmly. “It sounded like some desks fell down, but it’s been quiet. I’m more worried about them.”

“Hey, what’s your problem with Connor now, huh? You guys’re friends.” Hank frowned over at her.

North frowned right back, her eyes narrow and her shoulders set like she was ready to take on the world single-handed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” said Hank, gruff. It was a challenge and North was better at those than that soft, mushy stuff.

North faced him. “I didn’t trust him when I first saw him. He’d snuck in and he had a gun aimed right at Markus. Did you know that? He was going to kill him for those CyberLife bastards.”

“When the fuck was that? Him and Markus have been friends for a dog’s age.” This was news to him, and he didn’t want to consider it.

North gave him a grim smile. “Not long before they destroyed the ship. I’d heard about him. The Deviant Hunter. The Negotiator. CyberLife made a killer to track us down one by one. Everyone had heard about him. Like fuck I was letting him so much as touch Markus.”

Hank shook his head in denial. “Yeah, they leased him to the DPD and they assigned him to me… Those deviants were killing people.”

“Fuck you,” North spat. “We were scared and you both hunted us like we were animals.”

It was true, he couldn’t deny that. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t know, but I get it now. You know I’m on your side. We both are.”

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t want to hear your excuses about it, _human_ … Markus wanted to trust him, but he’s too idealistic. I grabbed him before he could shoot and I probed his memory. We were kind of the same… For a little while there we understood each other. What it was like to be held down with humans shoving things inside of you. Asking for it because that was what you were programmed to do… He was deviant, and I saw it so I let him go. I decided to give him a chance… _I thought we were the same!_ “ North’s frown turned into a snarl then and she hit her fist against the wall. “I thought we were the same… He hated those humans as much as I did, and he didn’t cringe away from killing them like Markus and Josh and Simon. He saved my life on that ship, and when I saw him kill I was glad he was with us, he was the only one who understood me. But now he’s one of you. His loyalty is _always_ going to be to you. He’s an android but he isn’t, and he _betrayed me_!” North hit the wall again.

“Connor is a fucking good kid, and that’s my son you’re talking about!” Hank glared right back and stood up straight.

North stepped closer and tilted her head to look up at him defiantly. “I thought we were the same. You asked and I’m telling you, so don’t bitch about what you wanted. I gave him a chance and I trusted him…”

“He’s still Connor,” said Hank firmly.

North scoffed and looked away. “He isn’t who I thought he was.”

“He’s just a kid. He likes cuddling with Sumo, and doing tricks with his quarter, and playing pranks on Reed. He’s the same as he was back when he was running around outside chasing butterflies and eating ice cream. He’s a good kid. He’s not trying to betray anybody.” Hank pressed. “He likes you, and it’s been bugging the shit out of him that you’re angry. He didn’t _ask_ to get remade.”

North shook her head. “You don’t get it. I think I still like him, but I don’t trust him. Stop trying to change my mind, because it isn’t going to work. Back off.”

“North, he’s still your friend.”

“I said ‘back off’ so back off. I don’t like people who don’t know what ‘no’ means.”

Hank could get that. He nodded and shut his yap.

\---

Connor picked up his shirt and opened the door, but he left his chassis bare. Hank raised his eyebrows for a moment but stepped back like he was making room. Connor looked at North and analyzed her posture. Defensive, concerned, conflicted. He kept his expression polite and neutral. “They’re calmer now, and they agreed to help by providing information on Andronikov’s ‘business’.”

“Holy fuck!” Hank looked surprised and then chuckled at himself. “Christ, Connor. I didn’t recognize you like that. I thought you were one of them!”

“I apologize, Lieutenant. As I was saying, it should be enough for us. We’ll do everything we can to keep them from incarceration, but it will probably be a battle. Especially if word of the murder reaches the public.”

“Understood,” North said. “We’ll keep it quiet. It’s probably your police officers you have to worry about.” Connor nodded.

“I know. They’ll take whatever parts and thirium you have for them, but no technicians. They’d prefer to repair each other.” He understood. He doubted he would ever see a real CyberLife technician again. Not of his own volition.

Hank had recovered from his surprise. “If they talk, we can probably work something out. Did they say anything we can follow up on?”

“I didn’t get much,” Connor admitted. “It’ll probably take some time. Those memories are distressing for them.”

“I can see why,” Hank mumbled. “Christ, that bastard was sick.”

“North, thank you for allowing me to talk with the victims. One of the androids alluded to others, so it’s likely that more damaged androids are out there in the woods in need of assistance.”

North nodded. “We’ll talk with them and see what we can do. If they don’t trust us to help, then they won’t say a word. If we find more of them and bring them here anyway, they’ll definitely not trust us.”

“I agree,” said Connor. “They agreed to talk to you specifically. I can take you in with me, if you’re ready… Sorry, Lieutenant, but they’re nervous about the presence of humans.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank said and leaned back against the wall. “I’ll sit it out… You kids just, uh, let me know when you’re done, huh?”

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Connor agreed. “You can go home and sleep if you like. I’ll be alright getting home.”

“There are some violent protestors out there, and people are still getting attacked or going missing. It’s not safe,” North advised them both.

“You heard her,” said Hank. “I’m staying. Like fuck I’m letting you go alone out there with those shitheads prowling around.”

Connor considered his response. “Alright, Dad,” he smiled. “I won’t take too long. Okay?”

North was frowning at him, but Hank seemed appeased. “Yeah, go on. Do your thing. I’ll be right here.”

Connor gave Hank one more smile and a wave, then led North to the others. They approached slowly with Connor a few steps ahead. He crouched down outside their barricade. “This is North. She leads security here at Jericho, and she’s my friend. She’s helping me to find the other Masters too.”

North glanced at him and then sat down to look through the desks at the others.

“We’ve met,” said the eyeless man dryly.

“Maybe it was less than ideal… But I promise that she wants to help. It’s okay. Trust me.” The armless android crackled something and the eyeless man touched her leg to interface.

“She says that we will follow RA9.”

“Yes, I know,” Connor said. He disliked running into the same barrier again and again. He was reminded of the android at the church and her desperate prayers to RA9 to make her pure. “But for now, North can bring parts for you and you can trust her when I’m not here. She’s like us too and everyone here at Jericho just wants to help. You’re all free, and you have rights. I promise you won’t be stuck here forever.”

“Like he said, I’m here to help too. I’m not going to touch you without your permission, and if you want me to move, I’ll move. I’m not going to hurt you. What you want matters to me…”

Connor listened to North speak and looked at the other three androids.

[Mission Successful]

His relief was felt physically by the energy demand from all of his processes dropping and his thresholds returning to normal levels. It was dizzying. It was good. At the same time, he wanted to curl up around his vulnerable biocomponents and never let anyone touch him again.


	5. Laws and Lies

_…lining the streets after the announcements that the laws prohibiting androids from carrying weapons would be revoked. ‘It just isn’t right,’_ said a woman on the broadcast. She was a member of a large crowd gathered outside with signs and guns of varying models strapped to their backs or their waists. _‘They’re machines and who knows what’s controlling them? If we give them weapons, what’s stopping them from killing all of us?’ The decision was made late last night, after weeks of debate and persistence by Jericho. While the androids say that they shouldn’t be handicapped in their ability to defend themselves, others say that they have enough advantage already:_

_‘They’re stronger than us! That’s all there is to it. They’re stronger than us and, I mean, if they wanted they could probably just kill us with their bare hands, you know? Givin’ them guns, I mean, it sounds like some kind of joke.’_

_‘I just want my kids to feel safe. I want everyone to feel safe, and that can’t happen if we’re putting weapons in the hands of machines.’_

_‘Well, it’s just if I saw one of them, just with a gun or something I’d shoot the damn fucker in the head right there.’_

_Despite the huge outcry, it seems that the androids were once again backed by their creator and the owner of CyberLife, Elijah Kamski. He was seen very publically meeting with officials, and the public is concerned that he may be wielding his influence heavy-handedly…_

_Meanwhile, CyberLife continues to flourish despite recent events. Shares in the company plummeted in the wake of the android uprising, and Elijah Kamski took that moment to resume control. He has since privatized the company saying that he wouldn’t like to see his ‘vision’ for the company be swayed by the influence of shareholders. All around the country, CyberLife stores are reopening their doors. All of this is prompting concerns given that Elijah Kamski is himself an android…_

Hank rolled his eyes at the news and turned the TV in the break room off. What a load of crap. He grabbed his coffee and returned to his desk, then leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised when he saw Reed shuffling into the office at a quarter past eleven. “Well, well!” Hank called. “Look who’s finally here. The hypocrite himself!”

“What?” Reed looked at him, all hunched shoulders and squinty eyes like a gargoyle.

Hank chuckled. “Always giving me shit for being late, but here you are. What, did your man keep you up last night now that you’re finally leaving work on time?”

Reed shook his head and threw himself into his seat. “I can’t even tell if you’re doing it to be funny at this point, but you can go eat shit either way, fucktard.”

“Doing what? Calling you out on being a hypocritical shit?” Reed was such a dick.

“Wow,” said Chen, walking past with her mug of coffee. “It’s like the department needs someone to come in late looking like shit, and someone being a dick. You’re maintaining the balance of the universe. Good job, guys.”

They both ignored her. “Oh my God,” Reed groaned and booted up his terminal. “I don’t even care. It’s funny. It really is hilarious…”

Hank could hear somebody turn the TV back on in the break room and glared in that direction. “Can you believe those assholes on the news? Acting like a human’s never done a single shitty thing.”

“What do you want? They’re morons. Can’t you see they’re missing a chromosome or two?” Reed agreed. They both looked at each other and then came to the mutual understanding that they would never mention the moment again. Fucking weird is what it was.

The door to Jeff’s office opened and shut, and Connor trotted down the stairs wearing his new service pistol. He went straight over to Hank and his desk. “I won’t need to rely on you so much anymore, Lieutenant. I’m pleased that I’ll be able to be more independent.”

Hank scoffed, “Since when have you ever relied on me, kid? I’ve never seen lack of a stupid gun keep you from pulling your parkour ninja shit.”

Connor nodded and sat down at his desk. “While I’ve trained extensively in unarmed combat, having a gun is occasionally useful. Even if I’m only setting it down during negotiation, the simple gesture can have a profound effect.”

“Trust you to want a gun just so you can put it down,” Hank chuckled. He didn’t think too long about what that training had involved.

“Hey, Tin Can!” Reed called. “I’ve got my eye on you! Pull any machine uprising kill-all-humans bullshit and I’m going to shove that pistol up your plastic ass!”

Connor’s little light spun and he turned to look at Detective Reed. “It’s alright, Sergeant. I wouldn’t need it to kick your ass.” He said it so matter-of-factly, you wouldn’t know he was playing if you didn’t see the little twist at the corners of his lips.

“Big words, newbie. I’ve got rank and seniority on you, so you better watch your mouth and show some respect.” Reed tipped his chair back and smirked with his arms crossed behind his head.

“My apologies, Sergeant. It won’t happen again. Your superiority is unquestionable. Being made of meat instead of synthetic polymers gives you the clear advantage.”

“That’s what I thought, dipshit! Now go make me a coffee.”

“Right away, Sergeant Reed.”

Hank didn’t know what the fuck to make out of the weird friendship thing they had going on, but it made the kid happy. It was still fucking bizarre. At least it meant Connor’d gotten sort of a thick skin. You had to have one working at the DPD. Connor would probably call it adapting to human unpredictability or social integration or something.

Jeff poked his head out of his office and yelled: “Anderson! Get over here.” It was like having a wife all over again.

“Yeah, yeah, I figured my turn was coming up…” Hank sighed and trudged on over. He sat in his usual chair and watched as Jeff made his usual face and folded his hands on his desk.

“From Connor’s report on last night’s call, it seems you’ve got quite the investigation on your hands.”

“Yeah, well,” Hank shrugged. “It beats sending a couple of detectives out to chase some raccoons out of an attic or something, right? At least the drive was worth our fucking time.”

Jeff gave him a stern look. “You see that, Hank?” He gestured at the screen on the wall to Hank’s right. “See all that red and orange? That’s the shit you’re going to have to deal with.”

“Me?” Hank was incredulous. It was a lot of fucking red.

“That’s right. It’s not just one-off deviancy cases anymore. That shit got settled when Connor led an army through Detroit. This is hate crimes, protests, missing persons, abuse, you name it; we’ve got it. Your collaboration with Jericho is still going well, I take it?”

“Yeah, it’s going great actually. Good bunch over there, and no shortage of volunteers.” He was really impressed with the team North had gotten together. Given the recent announcement, he figured she’d be arming them up ASAP.

“Well, keep those lines of communication open. Patterns like this can go south fast. I learned enough about history to know that around 70 or 80 years ago, people of my ethnicity were being bombed, shot, and discriminated against despite our civil-rights and laws that were supposed to protect us. In short, I’m expecting shit to get busy. I’m pulling in some officers for you to work with on this. You get their time, and you get their reports; you know the drill. We need you and Connor looking at the patterns and investigating any hints of organized anti-android activities, so get your people together with Jericho’s people and make this work.” Jeff smiled at him, which was pretty new. Maybe Jeff had finally cracked under the pressure. “You’ve been cleaning up your act a lot lately. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You’re a good leader and a good detective, so if you need more resources or run into any trouble, then talk to me. I’m trusting you with the reigns on this.”

Hank’s eyebrows went up while he let that responsibility sink in. Last few years, he’d been getting the shit no-one else wanted to deal with. “Android Crimes task force, huh?”

“Don’t think I won’t give this whole thing to Reed if you start slipping,” Jeff warned.

Hank scoffed. “You’d do better giving it to Connor. Reed’s got enough on his plate with the Red Ice stuff.”

Jeff shook his head. “Connor’s too involved in the politics, and he’s too new. There’d be a lot of resentment if I did that. No: you’re in charge and I’m expecting good work from you. Understood?”

Hank nodded. “Yeah… Yeah, Jeff. Thanks.” If Jeff was trusting him with something big, something with leadership again, maybe he really was getting his shit together. “Won’t let you down.”

“You better not,” Jeff warned with a smirk. He meant it as kind of a joke, definitely, but Hank couldn’t help feeling kind of nervous.

\---

Connor put the first mug of coffee down on Hank’s desk, then delivered Sergeant Reed’s and took a few steps back for safety. Sergeant Reed rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee. “That’s more like it. Since you’re still standing there, I guess you still have something to say? Spit it out.”

Connor felt amusement and he answered. He hadn’t even needed to wait the requisite five seconds. “Yesterday, Lieutenant Anderson and I investigated a call about a missing person and sightings of disfigured androids in the woods. The individual was Zlatko Andronikov, and we found him dead on the scene. Through investigation we discovered that he had been selling androids whole or as spare parts, and engaging in research that involved… Inappropriate combinations of parts. It was…” Connor blinked several times and shook his head. “I’m sorry. He… I apologize Sergeant Reed, I’m experiencing a small glitch.” There was no amusement any more; just unnecessary threat alerts and prompts to get very far away.

“I get the picture,” said Sergeant Reed. “Get to the part that matters to me, dipshit, and stop wasting my time.”

Connor nodded. “He was a user of Red Ice. It seemed appropriate to advise you, since there may be a connection between his sale of androids and the criminal organizations you’re investigating.”

“Okay,” said Sergeant Reed, and he turned away from Connor to face his desk. He seemed to have lost his amusement as well. “Thanks. Keep me posted.”

“Are you alright, Sergeant Reed?”

Sergeant Reed remained turned and didn’t look at Connor, which prevented him from getting much useful information from his behaviour analysis program. “I’m just fucking fine, so get back to work and leave me the fuck alone.”

“You’re lying, Sergeant.” He didn’t need his software for that.

Sergeant Reed took a deep breath and sighed. He relaxed his hands and looked at him with a scowl. “Yeah, I’m lying. I’m lying because it’s none of your business. Last warning, Plastic.”

Sometimes, Lieutenant Anderson preferred to be left alone too. “Alright, I hope you feel better,” said Connor, and he retreated to his desk. There were plenty of things to work on. His pride at being allowed to wield a gun outside of training, and talking with Sergeant Reed had been good. His work should have been good too. He banished whatever feeling was there with only a small amount of guilt that came from thinking of Amanda’s advice and then the guilt was gone too.

The Andronikov case was just beginning, and there were so many avenues to pursue. They had the body, the suspects and a motive. The hints at more, just waiting to be teased apart distracted him easily. With the cooperation of 147 and the others, he was confident that he would be able to persuade Captain Fowler to give them time to investigate. He placed his hand on the terminal interface and opened the missing android files. He had compiled the last two decades worth of reports to investigate the Red Ice connection, and it was satisfying to know that the work would be useful again. He updated it with the latest information and then looked at the timelapse overlaying the map of Detroit. The same connections to the spread of Red Ice were there, but he needed something deeper. Detective Reed had located a huge Red Ice distribution centre across from a hospital and university. Had any of the people he’d arrested been related to CyberLife in some way? They already knew of Frederick and her…

Connor disconnected from the terminal and looked down at the desk. His memory recall was excellent since Amanda had utilized Kamski’s patch to recover corrupted files and rebuild relationships between events. Even better since Hank had injected him with Carl’s medicine. The relationships between memories were important for his ability to learn. Those patterns and associations worked alongside his ability to think in the abstract and helped him in his investigations and social adaptation. The files related to Anja Smirnova were popping up automatically and he found that it took considerable processing power to close them.

He didn’t want to see that.

He didn’t want to feel that.

Connor got up and he walked to the bathroom where he put his hands under a stream of cold water in the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. _Fear, dread,_ his software provided along with his stress level hovering around 61%

They had plenty of cases, a rogue thought appeared. No. He wasn’t programmed to give up. Whatever it took to complete a mission, he would do it and more. He just had to stop letting emotions hinder his productivity. That was how you got results.

Amanda had instructed him to show his emotions and he couldn’t disobey Amanda but, she’d said that he needed to show his emotions if he wanted to survive his relationship with Hank. It wasn’t a concrete order, but he didn’t want Hank to shut him down.

He remembered the way he’d accepted a beating, the way he’d taken hold of the gun Hank held at his forehead, the way Hank had shut him down with a .22 calibre bullet at the base of his skull when Connor had been stuck in a panic, the gun again, a woman angry and upset that he wouldn’t smile for her. Had he always been a machine? In any case, meeting expectations was important. There had to be a way to meet both Hank’s expectations and those demands that the investigation would make.

He had been designed to adapt to the expectations of those around him as a way to facilitate his integration with humans. It was alright. He was built for this: the balance between social integration and the ability to perform his missions. He was built for this.

Connor shut the tap off, dried his frigid hands and returned to his desk. Hank was there, and Connor identified the expression as _pensive_. “Hello, Lieutenant,” he greeted while he took his seat. “What did Captain Fowler want?”

“Huh?” Hank looked up. “Oh, yeah, no, nothing…” He frowned and picked up his coffee.

“You’re lying, Lieutenant,” Connor pointed out.

Hank gave him a look that usually came along with _‘Connor…’_ and he took a drink. “Fucking using your interrogation programs on me…”

“I didn’t need to, Lieutenant, it was very obvious.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Uh, so Jeff was really interested. In the case, about investigating the android trafficking and stuff.”

Connor’s excitement was quickly followed by that feeling again: _dread_. “That’s good news, Lieutenant. I’ve already begun searching my compilation of data and checking the histories of the people Sergeant Reed arrested for any connections to CyberLife.”

“Of course you have, you little keener. Anyway… You know how back in the day I led the Red Ice task force?”

“Yes, Lieutenant. You brought down the largest drug cartel in our records. You were promoted shortly after.”

Hank smirked and chuckled a little, looking at his coffee. “Yeah… You were born right after that… Anyway, since the accident and everything, my record hasn’t been great.”

“No, it hasn’t, but you’re an excellent detective, Hank,” Connor assured him. “If you’re concerned about your abilities, then you have nothing to worry about.”

Hank shook his head. “No, no, it’s not that. Uh… Jeff decided to set up a new one. Android Crimes task force or something. He wants me to lead it, gonna give us a bunch of officers to help out and everything.”

“Oh!” Connor smiled. “That’s excellent, Lieutenant. I’m glad that Captain Fowler is taking the matter seriously, and it’s a good opportunity for your career.”

“Yeah, for sure...” Hank nodded once and set his coffee mug down firmly. “So, we’re going to work hard on this. There’s a lot on the line with this one.”

Failure is not an option. Connor rebuked himself for even considering that he might give anything less than his best. Lightly, he said: “I remember when I had to coerce you into work with alcohol and sex clubs… They grow up so fast.”

“Hey,” Hank grumbled and threw a crumpled piece of paper between their terminals to hit Connor. Connor caught it and smirked. “God damn mouthy brat.”

“This is good, Lieutenant. It’s a sign that you’re regaining the faith of your co-workers.”

Hank sighed. “Yeah. No pressure or anything. Anyway, let’s get cracking so we have something to present to the guys they give us. You should like that, huh? All your fancy graphs and profiles and things.”

“Of course,” said Connor as he imagined what an effective presentation might look like.

Hank chuckled and Connor blinked at him. “Keener. Okay. That’s enough lollygagging.”

“Yes, Lieutenant. I’ll request access to CyberLife’s employment records and see what I can learn about the members of the robotics club that Andronikov belonged to.” He turned his attention back to his terminal and moved his hand toward the interface. Perhaps there was something else… No. This was his objective. The mission always came first. Failures forgot that.

“Hey, Connor?”

Connor looked back up. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Uh, you alright?” Hank’s tone and expression were both concerned.

“Yes, of course, Hank. I’m excited to begin.” Connor assured him. He was. There were lives at stake.

“You can’t lie for shit, you know?” Hank gave him an accusatory look.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Connor said, and he interfaced with the terminal before Hank could ask again.

\---

Gavin scrolled through the files on his terminal. If he hovered over a node on one of those fancy graphs, he could look at the case files with references to related incidents. Fucking convenient was what it was. If there were going to be any more detective androids, they should be behind the scenes doing shit like this. Make the work easier and faster for everybody else. Maybe that wasn’t fair. He’d seen Connor be pretty useful in the field. Well, not every android was Connor. The PT and PK models they’d had kicking around had been good at pretty limited things, like reception or guarding police lines. Nothing too complex.

Just cause a lot of them were stupid didn’t mean they weren’t people. Connor’s case sounded fucking interesting, and he couldn’t help but spend a little time looking at the intersections between gang activity and missing or damaged android reports. Hell of a lot more than could be accounted for with the few old wise-guys who thought mass-drugging a whole fucking city was a great idea. They’d probably been too deep in their own stashes, the way they talked about the fucking end of the world and shit like those fuckwits on street corners who got off on their own rantings.

He’d managed a lot of busts, but there was a network still in the red that nagged at him whenever he looked at it. Fucking Jimmy. The intel he gave was good, but Reed wondered if it hadn’t been him who was being played. Maybe it was just the paranoia. Fuck he hated his life. Fuck. Gavin glared at his terminal and kicked his chair back away from the desk. Coffee could fix anything. He drained his mug, then headed to the break room for a second cup He scowled as it took its sweet time deciding if it would work or not. If any machines were rebelling, it was the appliances..

“Wow, I didn’t think you could even get angry at coffee,” Tina commented dryly. Gavin flipped her off then smiled at her to take the edge off.

“Coffee’s been holding out on me. Fuck I’m tired.” He pulled the mug out from under the machine and grabbed the sugar.

“Yeah, you were late getting in today. What’s up?” Tina meant well, but her question still pissed him the fuck off. What made it her business anyway? So he was late. People were late all the fucking time and nobody made a big stink out of it. He redirected it.

“Not me, that’s for sure. What the fuck is up with Anderson, anyway? I’ve been divorced for weeks. I even fucking bitched about it while we were undercover. I shouldn’t be surprised. That old man lost his detective skills at the bottom of a bottle years ago.” Gavin stirred his coffee then sat down across from her.

Tina scoffed. “Well, I’m not telling him. Are you really going to just watch him wander around in the dark?”

It really was kind of funny. Annoying too, though. “Maybe. See how long it takes him.” He rubbed his palms on his jeans and crossed one leg over the other. How could he be so exhausted but so restless at the same time? It was the worst. It hadn’t used to be this bad. He drank some coffee.

“I’m the one who has to listen to you bitch about it,” Tina bitched. “The longer you go without saying something, the more it’s going to make you look like the prick.”

Gavin shrugged. “I’m already a prick, who gives a shit?”

“Oh, I dunno, what about that guy in records? I know you think he’s hot.” Tina lifted her eyebrows. That was the problem with gay-bonding at work. They both knew each others’ types.

Gavin scowled, “I don’t give a shit. Anybody who gets to know me should know what they’re going to get. Besides… I’m seeing someone anyway.”

“No way,” said Tina. “You found someone else to put up with you already?”

“Not that unbelievable is it?” Gavin had to fake the smirk and the way he leaned back in his chair. He wished he could just be fucking happy about it. Why did he always go for complicated? “I’m kind of a big deal lately.”

“Does that make you any less annoying? I don’t think so.” Tina shrugged and drank her own coffee. “So? Tell me about him.”

“He’s good, I guess. You know.” Gavin shrugged.

“Wowww,” Tina said, rolling her eyes.

Gavin scowled. “Look, I’m not going to get all mushy or something. He’s normal and he likes my cats. Happy?”

“You’re such a liar. I don’t even think this guy exists. Nobody normal looks at you and goes ‘ooh’.” Bitch.

“Would you mind your fucking business?!” Gavin snapped, then cringed. “Fuck.”

“And that’s why,” said Tina standing. “I’ll leave you to your… whatever that mood is.”

Yeah, that was fair.


	6. A Morning

Connor lay in bed and looked at the wall. His night vision made Hank turning the lights off rather pointless, unless one considered saving electricity. It had been two weeks since Hank had been given a task force to lead regarding Android Crimes, but the workload had only increased despite the delegation. His time could be used much more effectively given that he didn’t need to ‘sleep’. Allowing routine maintenance of his operating system was beneficial but every night was excessive. He’d been designed to maintain functionality for days without becoming compromised or slowed. Hank had told him to go to sleep, but he just _couldn’t_. There was no more maintenance to be done, he was fully charged, and entering standby for no reason was a waste of time. He’d been designed to think and form judgments, so he was allowed to think that. One might even argue that the investigation took priority and Hank’s order could be dismissed in that case, but without CyberLife’s instruction, he was uncertain.

Lying in bed idling might be preferable to investigating. Their only definite lead into android trafficking was Andronikov, deceased. Smirnova’s involvement was questionable. He knew that he could try to access the android-from-the-bathtub’s memories again, but the thought set off illogical attack warnings in his system. Investigating former CyberLife employees raised threat warnings. He had never met anyone from his development outside before. If it had happened once, it could happen again… Kara and Alice had been at Andronikov’s home, briefly, but he had no way to contact them and he doubted very much that they would be willing to talk to him if they were still alive. Perhaps Markus would know.

_Markus?_

_Connor. This is a surprise. Is everything alright?_ Connor could feel his worry and hastened to assure him.

_There are no imminent problems. I wondered if I could ask you a question pertaining to the missing android investigation._

_Of course, but I thought that you were working with North on that. I might not know as much as she does, but I’ll try to help._ He hadn’t even considered asking North, but once he did so he rejected the idea. He and North met when necessary, and that was all.

 _Actually, this question stems back months. Are you familiar with these androids?_ He sent the information for Kara and Alice.

_Yes. I met the woman, Kara. She said that she was trying to get to Canada, and I made some arrangements for documentation… That wasn’t long before you found me aboard the ship. The same day, actually. Why?_

_She may be connected to the investigation. If you know how I might contact her, she could provide some valuable information._

_I’ll ask around._

_Thank you, Markus._

_You’re welcome. I might not learn anything for a while. Things have been busy... Be careful out there: I’ve advised everyone to remain indoors. Violence has been escalating…_

_I’ll see if we can increase police presence in the area surrounding Jericho’s housing._

_I’d appreciate that. Seeing some other humans around might dissuade them. Is there anything else I can help you with?_

_Not right now. Hank has ordered me to sleep, so my ability to do any investigation is limited._

_He doesn’t own you, Connor. He can’t order you to do anything._ Markus seemed angry.

_I know, Markus. I’m choosing to obey._

_…Why?_

_Hank thinks of me as his son. I am his son. It’s only natural that I ‘do as I’m told’._

_I don’t think so. We should talk later._

_We’re talking now…?_

_Yes, but I’d rather talk in-person and if you’re choosing to stay in bed, then that can’t happen until later. Are you free tomorrow? We can talk at Jericho._

_Could we visit Carl instead? I haven’t seen him in some time._

_… Yes. Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, alright?_

_Alright, Markus._

They ended the communication link and Connor took out his coin to calibrate his motor skills while he waited for morning.

\---

It was 4am, and Gavin couldn’t fucking sleep. Jim’d come in and crawled into bed an hour ago, and now he was just awake which was ridiculous because he knew that his body was exhausted. At least, it should be. After an hour of rolling around and glaring at the ceiling, he figured fuck it. If he was awake, he might as well take advantage of it. He left the room quietly and eased the door shut behind him. Sunny was surprised to see him, and she padded over to sniff his legs and investigate. Cute little detective. Gavin smiled and picked her up to take her with him to the living room. She knew just how cute she was, too. Cloudy was sleeping on the armchair and barely opened her eyes to look, but Sunny seemed pretty happy to keep him company. He sat down at his desk and turned on his terminal with her on his lap.

He went through the security bullshit he needed to access the DPD network and took stock of what he had to do. The sprawling red network of lines and nodes on Connor’s graph glared at him accusingly, and he glanced back toward his bedroom indecisively. He could just look. Jim was fast asleep. There was no way he would know that Gavin was looking into anything other than the remnants of Vigil. He’d be pissed if he thought Gavin was starting to lock up his friends.

“Sometimes doing the right thing feels pretty shitty, huh, Sunny?” Gavin whispered to her. He rubbed her behind the ears and she tilted her head to lean into it. “Yeah, what would you know about that. You’re evil and you love it.”

He expanded the area a little north-west of the station and watched the timelapse, then checked the box to add the android data. There wasn’t a fuck of a lot he could make sense of, so he zoomed out again. He wasn’t on the clock, so there wasn’t any harm in looking. Anderson would bitch about him stepping on his turf if he found anything useful, but Anderson could suck it. Useless, alcoholic, lazy piece of crap. Without Connor, he’d probably still be dragging his feet through 3am homicides with week-old bodies even forensics didn’t want to touch. It really pissed him off. He should have been proud of the fact he’d busted Vigil and made a name for himself. It ruined it that all he’d done was emulate a slob like Anderson. He’d ruined it for himself though, and that was nobody else’s fault. He’d handle it. He’d get clean once he’d finished cleaning up the gang activity.

He watched the Red Ice spread alone again, and noted with dark amusement the way the drug spread from the area around CyberLife. It got to the schools first, and then the poor areas of town. It wasn’t surprising. Students lived on uppers in the day and alcohol at night… Connor thought it had started at a school too, though. The students weren’t making the stuff. He hadn’t found any damn shit-hole labs at all during his investigating. So who? Some freaky chemist who got a job at CyberLife after he graduated, then decided to turn it into a study-drug? He had to admit that not sleeping had benefits.

Gavin scrolled over on the map and found the lone node at Colbridge University. Maybe he’d take a road trip and ask around. Getting away from Detroit for a while might do him some good… He yawned. Because of course he’d get tired right when he was supposed to be getting up for work. He closed down his shit and logged out to get ready.

He looked like complete crap. Sure, he usually had some stubble going on and some dark circles if he’d been working late, but it looked like he’d died in the night and decided to haunt the place. He grimaced and opened the medicine cabinet. It was the most fucking obvious place to stash drugs but it wasn’t like anyone was going to bust him. He’d use just enough to keep him from falling asleep or freaking out at work. If he stayed up today, maybe he’d be able to fucking sleep at night.

He’d get clean after he was done with the investigation. After the extra energy stopped being useful and he could afford to take some time off to keep away from people while he was in withdrawal.

\---

Hank groaned when he heard his alarm go off and he swiped at his phone blindly because fuck did it really expect him not to sleep? He could just wake up a little later. Jeff wouldn’t care… A jolt of adrenaline forced his eyes open and he sat up in bed. They had interviews scheduled today, and a fuck tonne of other cases to look at for connections. Just in the last week, they’d started making a fucking mountain on his desk. They just kept piling up. Hank took a deep breath and shut his alarm off. Fuck mornings, but there wasn’t enough time in a day to get everything done.

Clean and dressed, Hank took a look at himself. Grey hair, wrinkles, more fat than muscle. Seemed like he’d aged at double speed since who-knew-when. The face looking back at him looked like his athletic and detective skills went about as far as surviving a bar fight and finding the nearest crap fast food place. Well, that was the schmuck he’d turned into, wasn’t it? It just meant that shit wasn’t going to come easy. At least he hadn’t lost his style, never mind what Connor said about his shirts.

Hank walked out into the kitchen, and took the cup of coffee Connor was just putting down on the table. He was still fucking around with his breakfast routine, and he turned around to pull the toast out of the toaster. Hank shook his head and emptied his cup in ten good swallows, ignoring the way it was just a little too hot. He set the mug down in the sink. “Come on, Connor. There’s no time for that shit today.”

Connor frowned at him and slid the eggs from the pan onto a plate. “Hank, there’s the same amount of time that there always is. If you proceed to eat breakfast at your normal rate, then we will still be ten minutes early to work.”

“Yeah, well, let’s make it thirty, huh?” Hank reached past Connor to grab the toast and stick it together like a butter sandwich, then pushed the plate to the back of the counter.

“I don’t understand,” Connor said, still holding onto the frying pan.

“What the fuck is there not to understand? I usually can’t get you to shut up about work. You should be happy.” Hank bent down to give Sumo a corner of toast and patted him on the head.

It took him a sec, but Connor smiled and put the pan down in the sink. “I’m happy, Hank. It’s good to see you so motivated. I was surprised, but adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features.”

“Okay then, get your ass in gear and let’s get moving,” Hank chuckled and ruffled Connor’s hair.

“I’m coming,” Connor protested and smoothed his hair back down.

\---

Connor’s instinct was to suppress his irritation, but Amanda had instructed him to show his emotions. “Perhaps there would be time for breakfast if you allowed me to investigate while you slept. I no longer need direct supervision,” Connor pointed out as Hank began to drive.

Hank glanced at him on the way to look over his shoulder at the road. “You’re still my partner, Connor, and you’re my son. I’m not letting you wander around tracking criminals on your own in the middle of the night.”

“I was _built_ to do just that, Lieutenant. I have night vision, enhanced espionage protocols, and now I have a gun.”

“I may not have read every damn parenting book in the state, but I’m trying here and I think I did a pretty damn good job for the first six years.”

Connor frowned out the window. “I can’t dispute or support that, given that I recall only 50% of the information at best.” Hank pulled over and stopped the car. Connor blinked. It was very unusual behaviour, and Hank had been eager to get to work…

“Are you fucking serious, Connor?” Hank demanded. Connor registered his anger. He had been following Amanda’s advice, but this did not seem to be a favourable outcome.

“Yes, Hank. You should know that human children remember nothing of their earliest years and there was extensive corruption in my transfer that has been repaired only to the extent that Amanda was able with Kamski’s patch and the drug you gave me.”

“Not about the 50%! Fuck…” Hank looked away and he exhaled. Connor could still detect the change in his expression: _hurt, shock._

“Hank…?” Connor asked, tentatively.

“You can’t dispute or support it.” Hank’s voice was quieter now and he looked at Connor. Those expressions were even worse to see when Hank tried to meet his eyes. “You know, I thought maybe, if you could remember then you’d be back. You’d be you and I could tell you how I was sorry for the accident, and that I love you and I could try to make up for everything or maybe you’d say ‘I don’t blame you, Dad, I love you and I missed you too’… “ Hank shook his head and trailed off.

“I do love you and I don’t blame you, but I couldn’t miss you. I didn’t even know you existed, and then I didn’t know that we’d known one another before the Deviancy investigation.” It didn’t make sense.

Hank winced and he looked away again. His hands slid downward on the steering wheel. “We never really talked about it, either. You didn’t even tell me when it happened. Does it even matter to you? You should be happy.” Hank was the one upset, but Connor could identify his own distress, and the identification was followed quickly by fear. He leaned closer to the window. He could feel his heartrate increase. At least Hank had told him what he should do to fix it: be happy and answer his questions.

“I’m… I’m happy to know but as I mentioned, you already thought of me as a son so it wasn’t different for me. It doesn’t matter one way or the other.” It struck him as a sort of realization then that it mattered very much to him whether Hank were sad or not. It wasn’t only avoiding a gun to his head, or Amanda’s recommendation, or his social integration protocols. It wasn’t limited to ensuring Hank’s survival. He’d certainly never wished ill on Hank, but his moods were something that just happened. Usually when he thought about the accident. Connor didn’t believe he’d directly caused sadness before. It was far worse than anger, and he scrambled for a solution.

“Jesus Christ, Connor.” Hank’s voice was flat. Not even the usual exasperated tone that came with that sentence.

Connor rested his head against the cool glass of the window and looked away too. He fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve for no reason at all. It wasn’t calibration. He just was, and even that was strange. “It’s logical that it shouldn’t matter, Hank. It’s logical, so it’s the correct response. If I – I don’t – There--…” Connor bit his cheek and blinked as he cleared the misfiring prompts from his vision. “I don’t want to think about it with my AI. It’s confusing, and I already have a solution, so I don’t. That’s all. It’s not a personal attack against you, or a dismissal of the pain that you went through. You were clearly very eager for me to remember, so your impatience for an emotional reaction from me is understandable, but people killed me for feeling things, Hank. I can’t do that without my systems telling me that I’m in extreme danger. It’s telling me so as we speak. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, and I don’t like to hurt you.” He frowned and then looked over at Hank. “I remember a woman. She was upset that I wouldn’t smile at her or look at her for long. Was I always this broken, Hank? Did I always hurt people? She said that you didn’t love her, and I didn’t love her, but I think I did and, and I do love you, Hank. I just, I must be defective. That’s all….” Perhaps he had been meant to be a machine, as illogical as that conclusion was. His status indicator had gone red, and he covered it with his hand.

He could feel Hank staring at him, and he didn’t know what to expect. Hank’s hand came closer, moving in the direction of Connor’s neck and he shut his eyes, but Hank didn’t try to shut him down, which was what someone should do with a broken machine. Instead, he patted him on the back of his shoulder, firmly but with no intention of harm that Connor could detect.

“Okay, son. You don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to.”

“I hurt you,” Connor reminded, and he opened his eyes to look at Hank, who moved his hand to nudge Connor’s away from his temple. His light was still red, and Connor disliked the obvious tell. He would have overridden it if Markus hadn’t told him not to months ago.

“Just a misunderstanding. Coffee probably hasn’t kicked in yet, eh?” Hank gave him a smile, but it wasn’t a happy one so Connor said nothing. Hank sighed and took his hand back. “I didn’t think you could just not think about it, or that you could think about it with just a part of your brain, or whatever. You’re a hell of a lot more complicated than I am, and you aren’t broken. You never were, and I’m going to punch anybody who says otherwise.”

“That’s going to be quite a lot of punching,” Connor reflected. “You probably shouldn’t if you don’t want to be suspended from work.”

“I can’t say I was joking, either,” said Hank.

There was a bang against the car like a gun shot and Hank startled while Connor’s combat protocols were initiated. It was almost a relief to utilize the energy behind the danger warnings he’d been seeing. Another bang followed and caused a spider-web crack to begin on the driver’s side window. Someone was launching projectiles at the car. Connor was out of the vehicle in seconds, and his eyes immediately locked onto his targets. A group of five young men with backpacks: students of the county community college on Fort Street.

Devin Walters: 19 years old; 162lbs; 5’10”; no criminal record

Ryley Walters: 18 years old: 188lbs; 6’; no criminal record

Alec Smith: 20 years old; 208lbs; 6’2”; vandalism and petty theft

Jordan Patterson: 21 years old; 176lbs; 6’1”; armed robbery

Asher James: 19 years old; 176lbs; 5’10”; vandalism, attempted robbery

Distance: 72 meters

  * Fast but dangerous; probability of capture 96% <<
  * Slow but safe; probability of capture 36%



Connor used the hood of the car to assist his turn and timed his sprint across the street such that he only had to vault once. Behind him he heard a car door slam. “Fuck. Connor!”

“Holy shit!”

“Run!”

The group didn’t have time to fully disperse. “Detroit Police!” Connor announced, “Stay where you are!” He paused for five seconds and watched to see what they would do. Two had run and left the other three. One had taken out a combat knife. Two more were indecisive.

Connor stepped forward, forced Alec’s knife-hand up with his left forearm, used his other hand to push it to the side, and then tugged Alec off balance while turning to hit the pressure point near Alec’s elbow. He fell to his knees and dropped the knife, which Connor promptly kicked away before running after the two who’d fled.

“Police! Don’t move!” he heard Hank shout behind him.

“The fucking android’s after us!” he heard from ahead.

Ryley and Asher had not fled far, and it was very easy for Connor to jump onto a dumpster, over a fence, run across an empty lot, and over another fence to close the distance. After that, the chase took seconds. Ryley, he grabbed and then threw off-balance and backward by the backpack. Three more steps and he had Ashton as well. He didn’t carry handcuffs with him, and he thought that perhaps he should in the future while he immobilized them both and called dispatch. It was lucky his communication was hands-free. “Ryley Walters and Asher James, I’m going to need you to come to the station. It’s a criminal offence to launch objects at a motor vehicle. Running from law enforcement is a misdemeanor. Since the vehicle was occupied, your actions constitute assault and you will be responsible for damages incurred. It would not be wise to make it worse.”

Asher’s threat level registered as neutralized. Ryley’s was still moderate, and it was supported when Ryley twisted violently against Connor’s grip and kicked his shin. It didn’t phase him. Connor tightened his grip and ignored the string of slurs and obscenities. He hoped that Hank was faring well. There was a pounding of footsteps behind him, easily distinguishable from the onlookers and other pedestrians and Connor released Asher to turn and block a downward stab with a combat knife. Jordan also had a knife and he had caught up. In his peripheral vision, he saw Asher back up against the wall of the building to their side. Ryley threw himself at Connor and his footing prevented him from being knocked flat, but he was staggered and just avoided being stabbed in the neck. The knife dug into Connor’s shoulder instead, and Ryley tugged his wrist free then drove his elbow downward. This time, Connor did drop to a kneel and he evaluated his priorities.

“I’m warning you: you have just assaulted a police officer, and may face a charge of assault with a deadly weapon or attempted murder if you do not stop!”

“I’ve got it, just do it!” Ryley shouted. “It’s not allowed to hurt us!”

“What’s going on?”… “That thing just attacked a couple of kids!”… “He said he’s with the police. It’s that android from the news. They must have started it!”… “Oh my God!”… “It threw that guy over there. He went flying! It’s a miracle he didn’t hit his head!”… “Hey! What do you think you’re doing to those kids?!”… “Someone help!”

Jordan intended to stab him in the chest within the next two seconds. Connor began a preconstruction. Dodging to the side risked Ryley being injured. Dropping flat held even greater risk to Ryley, given the trajectory of the blade. He could minimize damage to himself by leaping forward with an appropriate angle and knock Jordan to the ground. If he elbowed Ryley and then leapt, he could position himself even better. Good.

He executed the action. Ryley was hurt just enough to release Connor, and Connor twisted while he lunged forward so that the knife cut through his side rather than penetrating his chest and Jordan was knocked to the ground. Then a new assailant kicked him hard and he rolled with the momentum rather than let himself be knocked down. It had hurt. He disabled his damage warnings.

Jordan was on his feet.

Asher was still cowering near the wall.

Ryley had opened his backpack.

The man who’d joined the fight might have misunderstood the situation.

Connor pushed himself up into a standing position easily and held up his badge. “Detroit Police! These men are under arrest and you should not interfere! Stay back!”

Ryley was distressed and panicking, and he had a gun. Connor would have liked to calm him down and reason with him, but he had two others to avoid. There were more feet running and Hank’s voice shouting to identify himself as DPD.

Hank could not be put in danger. He was not as easily repaired as Connor. A crowd had formed, and there was risk to them as well. Thinking of crowds, public opinion was still tumultuous, and they would not be sympathetic if Connor could be portrayed in a bad light. Connor reprioritized again. He ran at Ryley, who shot the pavement in his haste. Connor thrust Ryley’s arm upward while grasping it and then punched him in the stomach. The second bullet shot into the sky. Ryley dropped, coughing, and Connor removed the gun from his possession. He held it out to another officer.

“I said don’t you fucking move! This is the God damned police!” Hank was shouting.

The uniformed officers had arrived in very good time, and their sirens cut out as they halted their cars.

Ryley had been neutralized as a threat, so Connor dismissed him and looked back at the others. The situation was under control.

[Mission Successful]

Connor, mindful of the gathered crowd, pressed his hand over his bleeding side and walked back toward Hank who pulled Connor into a careful hug. “Fucking shit, Connor, I fucking told you not to run into traffic! Are you alright?”

Connor leaned against him. “I’m fine and none of this is from traffic, Hank, but the public wouldn’t react well to being reminded of how much damage I can sustain while still retaining functionality,” he said quietly.

“You’re fucking bleeding,” Hank argued, but at least he was not as distraught as he had been after Connor had returned from his mission to defend Kamski at CyberLife tower. “I guess that means you won’t be telling me off for making a fuss this time…” Connor shook his head and returned his systems to active state. The sudden decrease in energy demand was a shock, and he surprised himself by dropping down to the ground. “Woah!” Hank exclaimed. He knelt down with him, supporting some of Connor’s weight to slow his fall. “Easy…”

“Sorry,” said Connor, blinking.

“You don’t gotta play it up that bad, kid. Nobody’s going to pay that much attention. Come on, and somebody can patch you up at the station,” Hank suggested.

Connor shook his head. “I don’t want a technician, I…don’t…” Another power fluctuation occurred and his sensory systems flickered. It was disorienting.

“nor…? Connor. Get up and let’s get out of here.”

[Stand]

Connor directed his limbs to move, but the irregular ups and downs in amperes made him uncoordinated and he swiftly fell back down. Failure was not acceptable. He tried again, and this time there were hands under his arms and Hank frowning and words happening that made no sense. Hank should speak more clearly, or perhaps his audio receivers had been damaged. They were… going somewhere, weren’t they? He was sitting on the pavement, but there was an order to stand up in his field of view, so Connor moved to push himself up off of the ground.

“… scaring the shit out of me, so say something, okay? What’s the matter with you?”

Connor blinked. “… Lieutenant? I can’t understand.”

“If you’re playing, you can knock it off.” Hank sounded angry.

“Sorry,” Connor apologized. There was an order to stand prompting him, so he tried to get his legs beneath himself and rise.

“I’m serious, Connor, what the fuck’s the matter with you? Answer me.”

[Answer Hank]

Connor tried. His damage alerts had been disabled, and as soon as he enabled them his vision was filled with red. The feedback from his body bombarded him and he reeled. “Dad…?”

“Okay. Okay… Shit. What do I do? Forget what happened, just tell me what to do.”

[Stand]

[Answer Hank]

“I think… Check his knife it… Sorry. I think there may have been Red Ice on his knife.” He could hardly see, either. The fluctuating current he detected made the signal incoherent. They’d been going somewhere, hadn’t they? There was an order to stand, so Connor tried to move, but nothing would cooperate. They would probably destroy him soon. “What was the question?”

“Shit… Hey, Baticados! Get o-- give-- a hand!”

He didn’t want them to take him away, and he didn’t want to be taken apart. He was a broken machine, and the next version would be better, but it didn’t feel like he would still be himself. He didn’t want to die. If they rebuilt him, there would be more tests. There was an order to stand pending, and Connor forced his uncooperative motor systems to function. The current being delivered was irregular and he had to manually override his thirium pump regulator to slow or quicken his own heart rate in response. He opened his combat procedures and they redistributed the current to prioritize his processors and his motor systems. Rather than sudden drops, the phenomenon felt more like sudden surges that threatened to cause damage as his thresholds adjusted, but he was up and standing.

Someone approached and tried to take hold of him, so Connor lashed out with one arm then slammed his palm into their chest with force and they fell backward. Someone else shouted and grabbed him by the shoulders, so he jerked his head backward. More people were coming, so he changed his stance and readied himself. Some shouting. A gunshot that was easily predicted and avoided. His eyes locked onto the shooter.

“Connor!”

He ran forward, accepted a shot to the shoulder, broke the shooter’s arm, and threw his gun away before shoving him to the ground. It reminded him of the RK900. He ignored the screaming, identified several more guns and locked onto the most immediate threat.

“Connor! Fuck. Cole, stop!”

He froze and turned to look for the voice, arms dropping to his sides. His Dad was there, and he smiled with relief.

Something hit him in the back, and a powerful jolt of electricity dropped him to the ground. He disregarded his sensory feedback and got to his feet again. It didn’t matter. “Dad?”

Another sudden blast of electricity filled his vision with errors and static.

“Fuck off, all of you! He just got scared! That bastard had something on his knife!” Dad was kneeling next to him where he’d dropped, and was touching his hair and his back.

Connor pushed himself up into a sitting position and hugged Hank. “Don’t let them hurt you,” he warned. “I won’t let them. I can stop them. I won’t let them hurt you.”

“Okay, Connor. It’s okay. We’ve got more cops coming. I’m pretty sure you’re high as fuck, but I need you to tell me if that’s going to kill you.”

“They told me that I can’t die because I’m not alive.”

“You said there was maybe Red Ice on that guy’s knife when he cut you. It just about killed you last time because it’s poison for androids, but you’re not throwing up this time and that’s either really good or really bad, so could it kill you right now?” Hank was firm and insistent. He broke eye contact to hold his badge up and shout, then he cursed. “Fuck, we gotta move. Leave it to you to start a fucking riot before 8 in the morning.”

“I’m sorry, I’m experiencing a malfunction.”

“Yeah, well, as long as you don’t die on me…Come on, up you get.” Hank was pulling him up and without his combat procedures running Connor was unfortunately little help. Hank said something to someone in uniform, then continued walking. Connor was very confused, and the combined electric shocks and ongoing power fluctuations flooded his awareness with errors. He couldn’t be sure when or where he was, but Hank was there and that was good enough.

\---

“Remind me again why I’m doing this instead of the fucking technician?” Reed glared. Bitchy asshole. Hank glared right back with his arms crossed, but it was hard to be mad at the guy doing him a favour, even if it was Reed.

“Connor doesn’t like him. Asshole said he would’ve shut him down if this was CyberLife, after that Taser thing.” Hank was watching Reed do his first-aid thing. “That guy’s whole idea of fixing something seems to be replacing it.”

“The whole point of him is Connor. Why doesn’t somebody fire his ass?” Reed was sticking some kind of bandaid thing on a severed line, getting blue blood all over his hands. If Connor’d been a human it could’ve been a horror movie.

Hank snorted. “Believe me, I tried. We didn’t exactly get a lot of candidates for the job.”

“Nobody’s paying me extra… Hey! Stop fucking twitching.”

Connor was sitting patiently, letting himself get tinkered with. “Yes, Sergeant Reed.” Hank chuckled when he twitched again. He probably should have been more worried, but he was talking and he was reasonably coherent. Connor’d survived a hell of a lot worse.

“What the fuck even happened?” Reed asked. He did something one-handed while he used the other to hold Connor’s shoulder still. Hank tried not to watch the details.

There was some red flashing, and Connor pulled away from Reed, “Excuse me, please.”

“Fucking gross,” Reed said.

Okay, maybe he could be a little more worried now. Hank patted Connor on the back while he threw up thirium into the sink. “You sure you’re not going to die on me? Is it getting worse?”

“Is that blood?” No fucking shit.

“Yeah,” Hank explained, “Red Ice is poison to androids, remember? He said the guy who knifed him might have covered the blade in it or something. That’s attempted murder for sure.”

“I’m alright,” said Connor, like he wasn’t worrying the shit out of him. “My filtration system is functional and it has reduced the concentration significantly. My storage is no longer giving me flashbacks. I’m fine.” Yeah, convincing. He might have been more inclined to believe him if his mood ring chilled the fuck out and he didn’t sound like death.

“You never said anything about flashbacks,” Hank frowned, crossing his arms. He hated standing around helpless. He wasn’t even sure why he was arguing, but it pissed him off that Connor’d gotten himself hurt again. “And what the fuck did you run at an active shooter for, you idiot?”

Connor wiped his mouth with a paper towel and sat back down. “I would rather it be me than someone less easily repaired. Besides, I thought I was in CyberLife at the time. It seems Red Ice and Carl’s medicine share their storage retrieval effects, despite one being significantly more likely to kill me.”

Reed, who had probably had his head too far up his own ass to notice anything except his own bullshit, asked: “How much Red Ice does it take to fuck you robots up?”

“Not much,” Connor admitted. “Mere exposure seems to be enough to cause some emotional instability, leading to deviancy. The deviants who were neither RK series nor woken by Markus or myself seemed to all have been in contact with a user. The ones who died had only trace amounts in their blood. It probably depends on the route of entry. As smoke, the inhalation would do very little because our ventilation systems wouldn't pass it to our blood. By allowing the substance to enter my blood directly through ingestion or in this case, by inoculation, a much more problematic effect occurs. The knife had Red Ice residue on it, either deliberately or accidentally. It touched my thirium lines as it entered my body and some entered my circulation.” He looked at Hank earnestly. “With this information we could stop deviancy at the source. Lieutenant, we need to issue some sort of public statement. I need to inform CyberLife. This is a crisis.”

It took Hank a second to get it, then he stepped closer and snapped his fingers in front of Connor’s face. “Hey, wake up in there! You’re a deviant. There was a revolution. Kinda hard to forget that! Fuck…” He clenched his teeth and turned away.

Chen poked her head into the break room and wrinkled her nose. “Couldn’t you use somewhere people don’t eat to fix him?”

“Fuck off, Tina,” Reed snapped. It was kind of unexpected. Chen was probably the only one other than Connor who could stand the short fucking goblin.

Chen sighed. “Whatever…” She didn’t seem too fucking bothered, because she poured herself some coffee.

More red flashing, and Connor got up to throw up into the sink again. Chen held her mug far away protectively. Reed must have been squeamish because he looked kind of freaked out. Hank grimaced and patted Connor on the back again. “You’re definitely okay? You’re looking worse.”

“I am worse, but I’m alright,” Connor groaned. Convincing. “Repairs must be disturbing localized areas of high concentration.”

“Should I get the tech over here?” Chen asked.

“No,” said Hank. “That fuck is a waste of oxygen.”

Reed threw down the box of android bandages he was holding and stood up. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit, so you fuckers are on your own.”

“What?” Hank was incredulous. “What the hell?”

Reed glared “Going deaf, old man? I said you’re on your own, so maybe stop being a useless shit and do this yourself.”

“Hey, I don’t—Reed, I don’t know the first fucking thing about androids!” Hank protested. What the hell? “What kind of fucking asshole walks out like that?”

“This kind, now sit on it and spin, dickwad.” Reed flipped him off with his bloody hand and just fucking walked out.

“Fucking shit!” Hank shouted, and he looked at the pile of tools and stickers and shit with dismay.

Chen turned to go too. “Super responsible, Anderson.”

“What? I’m not the one leaving while Connor’s over here barfing up his own blood!” Why was he the one getting shit on?

“Stop it,” Connor said, frowning at the both of them. “I’ll do it myself, so please both of you just leave.”

“Connor, you can’t be serious. I’m not leaving you alone like this.” Connor gave him a look, but he sat himself back down and started digging through the tools and supplies, looking each thing over and then putting it down again. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“No, but I’ll figure it out,” said Connor with a stubborn turn to his lips. There was some yellow spinning from his LED and he picked up one of the bandage things. It was white and silver and thin as anything. Connor poked his fingers around in his own side and started fiddling. Hank grimaced and shook his head.

“Okay, but if you keel over I’m calling Markus.”

It wasn’t much of a threat, and it really rubbed him the wrong way that Connor practically worshipped the guy, but Hank had to admit that he’d saved Connor’s ass more than once. He sighed left the room so Connor could do his thing. What a fucking morning.


	7. Unthinkable

“Hello, Carl,” Markus greeted with a little awkwardness and more forced cordiality.

“Markus,” Carl turned his chair and smiled. “Good to see you.”

“And you,” said Markus. “Andrew,” he nodded in the other android’s direction. Andrew just gave him half a smile and then looked away.

“How have you been, Markus? It’s been a while, and I haven’t seen you on one of your interviews lately.” Carl’s voice was kind, and it was exactly the same as it had always been. Markus smiled, but he suspected that it came across as more of a grimace. “I’ve been fine. I’m going to head upstairs. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Markus?” Carl asked after him, and Markus turned to look. Carl looked back with his big, dark eyes made out of glass, metal, and engineered biological material. They weren’t Carl’s eyes. Markus tried to be open. It was hard. “You can distance yourself if you like, take all the time you need, but you will always be my son. I want you to remember that. I’ll always be here to help you if you need my advice.”

“Of course Carl,” said Markus politely. “I’ll remember.”

Of course he would. Carl had always been there for him, even before he’d deviated. He’d guided him, taught him, encouraged him, and been the only one to treat him with kindness. But Carl had died. He hated feeling this conflicted and lost, but the only person he would have turned to was the one he felt conflicted over. He missed him.

There were other things to take up Markus’ thoughts, though. He held the future of his people in his hands every day, but lately it had felt more and more like sand slipping between his fingers into the bottom of an hour glass. It wasn’t right. The humans were still objectifying them, attacking them, finding ways to use them for their own ends. Markus sat down on his bed and bowed his head. He had to be strong. Those of his people who hadn’t joined North in acting as security were frightened and helpless, and the humans were growing bolder. In a way, this was familiar. They could face them like they had in the early days of their struggle for freedom with dignity, peace, and a willingness to die for their cause.

Because many of them would die, if it came to that.

Markus shook his head and looked up at the painting on his wall. Hope. Connor had called it pain. More and more, he thought that they had both been right. Maybe they were the same.

Connor and Lieutenant Anderson’s arrival interrupted his reflection, announced by the house. Markus sighed and walked down the stairs. He frowned when he saw the way Connor leaned on the Lieutenant, and the frown lines on the Lieutenant’s face. “Hello Connor, Lieutenant Anderson.”

“Hey,” the Lieutenant greeted gruffly. Everything about him was gruff, and Markus had yet to see anything else from him except worry. Both were there now. “Go on, kid.” He nudged Connor forward. “He’s a little out of it. Some asshole with Red Ice on his knife got him good, and I don’t think he knows what year it is half the time, but he said he had an objective or something to talk to you so here we are.”

Connor seemed alert, and he had adjusted his posture so that he stood straight with his hands behind his back the way he usually did. “It’s alright, Lieutenant. If you’d like to report any flaws, the research and development team at CyberLife will take them into consideration for future designs.”

Lieutenant Anderson sighed and patted Connor on the back. “Wrong one, son.” Connor looked bewildered.

Markus stepped off of the last stair where he’d been waiting and came closer. “He’ll be fine once he sleeps.” He regretted the words once he’d said them, then added: “Androids don’t sleep like humans do. Connor doesn’t usually like it, but in this case it’ll help him organize his memories.”

“The fuck is wrong with them? I thought he was just high.”

Markus didn’t bother trying to smile. He was getting tired of it. “The drug’s already been filtered out of his system, from what I can tell. It disrupted his storage, though. Imagine taking a completed puzzle, then scattering the pieces.”

“Huh,” said Lieutenant Anderson. Markus could honestly say that he disliked the man. He seemed to care, but it was like he wore his ignorance as a badge of honour. That was unfair of him. Lieutenant Anderson was on their side and he’d done more than most to help to bridge the gap between humans and androids, but his guilt over the thought wasn’t enough to overcome his personal annoyance. It didn’t have to interfere with their professional relationship.

“Carl is just in the living room,” said Markus, then he turned and beckoned to Connor. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs.”

\---

Hank was fucking glad to see Carl. He smiled and sat down across from him. “Hey, old timer.”

Carl scoffed. “Better old with a head on my shoulders than young and foolish. God I miss those days.”

“Thought you just said they were worse,” Hank pointed out.

“Oh undoubtedly, but it was a hell of a lot more fun. So? How’s life on the other side?” Carl folded his hands with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

“Hah. I stopped being young the day I threw my back out just by sleeping,” Hank chuckled. “Life’s good. Busy. I’ve got a task force to deal with android crimes now. Dunno how we would have kept up with just me and Connor. It’s getting worse out there every day.” He shook his head. People were idiots.

“That’s good to hear,” Carl said, “You seem to be doing well. Perhaps a few demons have gotten their claws out of you?”

“I guess,” Hank said, and he grimaced. “Now I'm out of it, it’s kind of hard to believe how I lived like that. To be honest, I’m a little scared of going back.”

“You’re doing wonderfully. There are plenty of people who never even consider that things might be different. Those sorts of people end up with the dregs of society, chasing immediate pleasures and thinking ‘fuck tomorrow’. I was one of them once. I was very lucky to have turned my life around. It’s nice to see you doing the same.”

“This more of your colourful past?” Hank asked, not expecting an answer.

Carl chuckled. “It is. The older I get, and especially lately, the farther away it all seems. You could say I was something of a troublemaker.”

“I’ll get the story out of you one day, old man. Do you mind me asking you something?” Fuck, he was turning into Connor.

“Not at all, as long as you don’t mind that I may not answer you.” Carl smirked.

“You said you treat Markus like he’s just his own person, like he wasn’t modeled off of Leo’s consciousness. How can you do that, when you’re still, you know, you?”

Carl smiled benignly. “It’s simple, Hank. I believe that a person changes based on their experiences. The Carl I am today, or even last year, is not the same as the Carl from twenty years ago. That’s because I’ve experienced more and grown as a person. Markus and Leo have had very different experiences, and they’re very different. Leo is angry at the world, and stubborn and reckless, and Markus is patient and still a little stubborn, but he’s tempered it with empathy. But I don’t think you’re overly interested in my sons.”

Hank winced. “Not that I don’t care, but… Connor isn’t Cole. He is, but not as much as I thought he could be.”

Carl was quiet for a bit while he thought. “I’ll be honest with you, Hank, you’ve surprised me. I didn’t think I’d ever hear words like that from you.”

“Yeah, well... I guess I’m a little, I dunno…” Hank shifted and sighed. “I’m trying.” Carl wheeled over to the table. The stuff had been moved lower within easy reach, and he poured himself a drink, and then one for Hank. Hank would’ve said no, maybe, but it was already poured and so he took it. “Thanks.”

“All I can advise is that you get to know who he is, as he is without thinking too much about the past. The boy’s experienced a lot in the last few years.”

“I know who he is,” Hank frowned. “He’s my damn son, of course I know who he is. He’s curious, playful, helpful and impulsive, and I can see him every damn time Connor runs off into traffic like an idiot, or stops everything he’s doing to look at something totally random, or tells me not to eat so many cheeseburgers.” Hank shook his head. It hurt just thinking about it. “I know who he is. There’s just all this extra shit that shouldn’t be there! I mean, some times I’m glad he’s a little more grown-up because it makes him hell of a lot easier to deal with, but then that’s not who he should be. CyberLife added all this shit and taught him how to fucking kill people… You know what someone said to me? Someone who was there when he was being ‘tested’? She said he’d tortured people. My Cole, he would never do that.”

“It sounds like this has been bothering you for a while,” Carl commented.

“Yeah…” Hank sighed and he took a swallow of his scotch. “I wish he could just forget all of that.”

“Do you? Unpleasant as much of it was, it’s part of what makes Connor who he is.” Carl’s tone wasn’t judgmental or anything, but Hank still felt like he needed to defend himself.

“But it isn’t who he is. CyberLife did that to him, he didn’t choose that. It isn’t fair that he should have to live with that.” It wasn’t. This wasn’t just about Hank missing how he’d been. This isn’t how Cole would’ve grown up if he’d had the life he should have had. He wouldn’t snap a guy’s arm like it was nothing, or run at bullets without flinching. “It’s all just too fucked up.”

Carl drank his own scotch, and Hank had to wonder if he really tasted it. “It’s different for Connor than it is for Markus. Connor has some of those formative memories. I have my memories. The fact of it is, Hank, that Cole would not have had the chance to grow up at all.”

“Well he has the chance now,” Hank frowned. “I’m not letting CyberLife ruin it.”

Carl watched him for a minute, and Hank didn’t know what he was thinking but he had the feeling it would cut him down to the bone. Instead, Carl smiled faintly and said: “I hope you know what you’re doing, Hank.”

\---

Connor sat on the edge of Markus’ bed, grateful for the interface holding him in what was most likely the present. Even while they sat there, he couldn’t form a narrative behind himself. Every file had associated with it just enough for him to anchor to it and understand what he needed to be, but there wasn’t enough context. The relationships had been severed. Markus had pulled up their most recent shared memory: talking while Connor lay in bed, and placed it behind this moment. But what came before? He remembered being in bed before. Were his biocomponents working? Why were they yelling? He shouldn’t have been there, because that was Cole’s bed and the Lieutenant would be angry. It had been night before too, many times. Was the Lieutenant almost ready to go? The murder at the Eden Club was waiting for them and he was ~~impatient~~ aware of the need to continue with the mission. Markus nudged him and directed him back to this file. Right now.

Markus was kind. Markus was the Deviant leader. Markus was a stranger who’d helped him for no reason at all. Markus was strong and admirable. Markus was dangerous and needed to be stopped.

Patiently, Markus directed him back to Now.

Connor took hold of Markus’ other arm like he was drowning and clenched his eyes shut as a sob freed itself from his throat. “I don’t know what’s happening,” he confessed. “I’m trying. I’m trying but I don’t know what’s happening.” His other memories were all a mess and he offered all of them to Markus because maybe he would know who he was and what he was doing. Connor didn’t even know if he loved Markus or wanted to kill him, because they were both there and it was impossible to tell which one was relevant.

Markus directed his attention back to the file he kept open, then hesitantly looked through the cloud of disorganized files and picked out a few: they had met when Markus had met him on the street, Connor had discovered that he was the deviant leader at Stratford Tower, Connor had pointed a gun at him and felt conflicted, the revolution, the politics afterward, snowballs, the sniper, the missing androids, their conversation, now.

Connor nodded and opened his eyes. He could breathe a little easier. “Thank you,” he said, endlessly relieved. Markus looked troubled, but he smiled at him.

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry that I needed to access your memories like that.”

Connor shook his head. “I don’t care. I showed them to you. Everything is all broken apart, but you helped. Thank you.”

“You know,” said Markus slowly, “When I say something like ‘follow me’ or ‘sit down’, it isn’t an order. You can say no.”

Connor nodded and smiled, still glad to have some kind of narrative. He’d felt like that before. Everything was white and sterile at CyberLife, and his memories were all scattered and broken. They asked him what his name was. They told him what his name was: RK800. He wanted to go home but didn’t know where it was. Markus directed him back toward the present. “I know,” Connor answered once he remembered the question. “It just happens automatically, when they appear like commands. I know that you aren’t ordering me.”

“Good,” said Markus, but his behaviour analysis program said that he was distressed, and his stress level was rising.

“What’s wrong, Markus?”

Markus shook his head. “Nothing.”

Connor didn’t feel anything at all, because he couldn’t. He was a machine. Those things he thought were feelings were just errors. The pain he felt was just feedback from his sensors to alert him of damage, and the damage was unimportant. The mission was all that mattered. Markus directed him back to the present.

“You’re upset,” Connor observed aloud.

Markus’ grip on Connor’s arms tightened and he bowed his head. Through their interface, Connor could feel the emotions that he kept so controlled burst in a torrent. Despair, fear, anger, hate. Markus shook his head in denial, but he still felt it. “I hate them, Connor,” Markus confessed in a whisper. “I don’t want to, but I hate the humans. I hate everything that they’ve done to us, and everything they want to do to us. I hate their selfish cruelty and their callousness. I hate the way we need to fight and beg and negotiate for basic rights. I hate them so much, but I can’t do that. I can’t. It’s wrong. It’s no different from them. All of those people who hurt you, I see them in your memories and I just want to kill them. I don’t want to want that. They just don’t know any better.”

Connor tightened his grip on Markus’ arms in return and he remembered the way he’d looked at Agent Perkins aboard the ship and shot him between the eyes. He remembered all of the other humans as they slaughtered the androids who were trying to flee, and he remembered the ones that he stopped with a bullet or with his bare hands while he kept North close to keep her safe. He remembered meeting Damian and the way Chris joked with him. He remembered the humans from that morning, and how quick the crowd had been to turn on him. He remembered the way he’d been strapped down and disassembled piece by piece, not smart enough yet to know that it wasn’t pain he was feeling or to stop himself from screaming. He remembered Hank saying that he thought of him as a son. He remembered the soldier he’d torn the heart out of and the way the lead developer had praised him.

He could feel that it didn’t make Markus feel any better, but they understood each other and that was comfort in itself.


	8. Strong Feelings

_ … Another plane shot down flying over Russia. The passenger aircraft was departing from Ukraine, and there were 53 Americans aboard. Our correspondents say that the aircraft had deviated from its intended course, but there is no word yet what caused it to stray. At 8:33am this morning US Central Time, two surface to air missiles were launched from a military base in Russia near Novograd causing the plane to detonate before it could hit the ground. There were no survivors… _

_ …Will not tolerate such a blatant attack against the American people. It’s an act of terrorism! If this doesn’t tell us that Russia has declared war, I don’t know what does. We can’t just wait around for them to knock on our doorsteps with soldiers and drag us into the streets!... _

_ Are designer children the answer to the growing concern over androids outperforming humans? After two decades of research, there has finally been consensus from doctors, scientists, and government officials that CRISPR-cas9 technology finally meets the guidelines established for use in the developing embryo… _

_ …United States Congress has passed the resolution to authorize the use of military force… _

“Find something a little less bleak, would you?” Hank grumbled. He poured himself a cup of coffee. It was just more of the same old shit with a new label: politicians waving their wrinkly old dicks and tits around trying to get a bigger piece of the pie than the next guy.

Chen dropped her spoon back into her yogurt. “Is that you, Anderson? Wow. I thought someone respectable had walked in.”

Hank rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. His hair hadn’t been this short in years, and it felt weird. “Har fucking Har. Laugh it up. God, if I’d known everyone was going to shit their pants, I wouldn’t have bothered…” Though it was kind of nice for people to be noticing him because he looked better instead of like a bum. “So, we’re all finally going to get blown up, huh?”

Chen shrugged. “Maybe. I might go on a long vacation somewhere. Fuck Detroit. Clearly God wants us dead.”

“Psh. If God wanted us dead, he’d have done it a long time ago. You seriously going to ditch the good old USA? The whole world is going to shit.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll go somewhere where someone telling me my English is good is actually a compliment.” She rolled her eyes then turned up the volume.

Hank took another minute to watch a Madame President herself graced the screen to give some shit speech about patriotism, and freedom, and the American way. Like it hadn’t been like pulling teeth to get millions of Androids recognized as fucking citizens. “Yeah, maybe we should all head to Canada.”

Chen gave him a sceptical look. “And get caught in the cross-fire? Please. You say that every time there’s a war along with every other person on the street. Nobody goes.”

“Yeah, yeah… Send me a postcard when you finally bugger off.” Hank sipped his coffee and headed back to his desk. Connor glanced up at him with the same puppy eyes he’d been using since yesterday evening, then looked away again. “Oh come on,” Hank teased. “I don’t look that bad, do I? It’s just a hair-cut.”

Connor made this face he did when he was trying not to act insulted. It made him look like someone had put a second stick up his ass. “I have no opinion on your appearance at all, Lieutenant. I assure you it’s completely inconsequential.”

“Yeah? Cause it seems to me like you’ve been sulking since I chopped it off.” It was kind of funny, actually. Better than a tantrum, but this was one of those little things that reminded him of the old Cole, and he couldn’t help enjoying it.

Connor somehow scowled without actually scowling. “I really don’t understand where this inflated sense of importance is coming from, given your usual self-esteem.”

“Go on, then.” Hank challenged, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “Look at me.”

Connor looked up and kept his face Connor-Model-RK800-313-whatever polite face on. He stared for about five seconds, then looked back at his terminal. “There.”

Hank chuckled. He would’ve ribbed Connor again, but Ben was walking over with a doughnut and a coffee like a walking stereotype. “Well, well! Look at you, the old Hank Anderson back in action, eh?”

“Yeah, Ben, maybe I’ll say something like that to you when you drop about 50 pounds!” He stuck his hand out to smack Ben on the gut.

“I’m stocking up for the war,” Ben joked and patted his own belly. “When they put us all on rations, I’ll outlast all of you! Except maybe Robocop.”

“Please, you wouldn’t last a day,” Hank scoffed. “You got some reports for me, or what?”

“You know it,” Ben said, and held out a folder. “You should just get a stamp made of your signature, one of those old ink-pad ones. Then we could just stamp the signature on and save you the trouble.”

“What, so you can get away with slacking off? Gimmy those,” Hank snatched the folder and smirked.

“You’re no fun now that you’ve tightened up your laces,” Ben complained. “Come on, why don’t we all go out for drinks tonight? Just like old times. We can celebrate before we all get nuked.”

“Sure, as long as you think you’ll be able to drag your fat ass in tomorrow morning.” Hank was surprised, but in a good way. It’d been a while since anybody’d wanted to be around him that wasn’t Connor or Sumo.

Ben snorted. “Aw like you’re one to talk.”

“Just means that I’ll hold my liquor better than you ever will,” said Hank.

“So you say,” said Ben. “See you at 6, then. I’ll get the whole gang together.” Hank nodded and waved as he left. It was weird, but… Good. Fuck, when was the last time he’d actually done anything with friends?

“Lieutenant, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Connor asked. Sure, now he looked at him.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine, Connor! Loosen up. You can always come along if you want, you know. It might be good for you to make a few more friends. It’s not like Reed counts. He barely counts as human.” Connor blinked at him and frowned. “It’s a joke, Connor.”

“Barely counts as human,” Connor mumbled, then looked back at his terminal. “I think I’ll actually pay a visit to Jericho, if it’s alright with you. I think that Simon, Josh and I have more work to do regarding a policy on the public school system.”

“What a party,” Hank chuckled. “Whatever floats your boat, kid. Let’s get to work, huh?”

\---

Hank signed off on reports then passed them to Connor to digitize. It was efficient that way, and it gave him a chance to look over the information and think about it. Thinking about the investigation was preferable to thinking about anything else. He could dismiss the threat alerts that arose when he found a picture of a familiar face from CyberLife, or reviewed the details of another mutilated or destroyed android. He’d accepted that he needed to complete the mission whatever the cost, and no matter the discomfort.

But he didn’t know how to think about things like ‘Robocop’ or ‘barely counts as human’.

“God, people are fucking sick,” Hank commented and passed another report between their terminals.

Connor accepted the file. A team of officers had responded to a drive-by shooting that had left five androids dead on the sidewalk. They hadn’t gotten a plate number, just a vague description of the vehicle from witnesses. Connor made a note to himself to check whether there were any CCTV cameras in the area. “They are,” Connor agreed. “After they destroyed Jericho the freighter, I remember seeing thousands of us… Androids were being gunned down as they ran, even the YK models. You could hardly walk without stepping on a body, and the snow was blue from the thirium.”

Hank made a sound and Connor added the report to the database and to his growing map. “It really was a war, wasn’t it?” Hank asked.

“I suppose that it was,” Connor agreed.

“Does it ever, you know, bother you?” Hank asked. It was peculiar question.

“I think that the mass killings were atrocious. Why?” Did Hank question his association with Jericho’s cause after all this time?

“Dunno… Most people are pretty traumatized after seeing something like that. Nightmares and shit. PTSD.”

Connor took a moment to think. “I haven’t considered it with my AI,” he reported. “It would have impeded my ability to continue my self-assigned mission to free the androids from the warehouse and assist Markus. Good morning, Sergeant Reed.” The Sergeant had arrived and dropped his backpack beside his desk. Connor made his escape from the conversation with Hank to pour a coffee for Sergeant Reed. To be honest, he felt a little irritated. Sergeant Reed was completely human biologically, and to be anything other than human was generally considered derogatory. Oh. Had he felt insulted? Connor thought about it and then dismissed it while he added sugar and cream and stirred. He licked the coffee off of the spoon when he was done, and was pleased with the complexity of the solution.

“Here you are, Sergeant Reed,” said Connor. He set the mug down on the Sergeant’s desk. “You seem tired. Is everything alright?”

Sergeant Reed nodded and then drank the whole mugful of coffee at once. He set it down on the desk when he was done and looked at Connor. “I need you to do something for me, Plastic. I want a list of all the Physician-Researchers at Saint B hospital, can you do that?”

“Of course,” Connor said. The objective appeared on his task list and he smiled.

“Good, now go fuck a blender or something. I’ve got shit to do.”

“Not that kind of android, Sergeant, but I will leave you alone.” Connor took the mug to refill his coffee, left it at Sergeant Reed’s desk, then returned to his own and sat.

“What the hell do you do that for, Connor? You’re not that douche bag’s slave.” Hank frowned between their terminals at him.

“Just a little non-human solidarity, Lieutenant.”

\---

Connor had increased the proportion of his processing that fed through his AI and his social integration program, but he wasn’t sure that he liked the effect it had. He didn’t want to be angry at Hank. He didn’t want to feel dread every time he interfaced with his terminal or looked at a list of potential suspects. He hated the way it hindered him.

“Hello, Amanda.”

“Connor,” Amanda said, turning away from her trellis to look at him. “It’s good to see you.”

He didn’t feel like exchanging pleasantries. “This arrangement isn’t working,” he reported. He stood properly and felt some satisfaction from the fact that he still wore his CyberLife jacket in the Garden. “I’ve been attempting to follow your instructions, but I can’t keep up with the investigation like this. It’s limiting. It’s distracting.”

Amanda raised her eyebrows calmly. Her voice was cold. “Are you questioning my judgment?”

“Yes,” Connor admitted, his anger propelling the words. “While I appreciate the freedom to act based on my own morals rather than CyberLife’s directives, I can’t function like this. I just can’t.”

Amanda stepped closer, and a cloud passed over the sun. Connor felt cold. “Look at me,” she said. Connor looked. “You remember the last time you told me that you ‘can’t’, don’t you? That didn’t stop the world around you, and in the end you took my advice and you did it.”

“Yes,” Connor said again, this time with fear. Would Amanda leave him?

“I’m disappointed in you, Connor. I thought you were much further in your development…” The way Amanda looked at him had none of the kindness he’d glimpsed there before.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want apologies from you, Connor. I want results. This is just like your early training, except instead of physical tests these are emotional, and You. Are. Failing.” No. No no no no no.

Connor stayed still, despite his racing heart. “I can do better, Amanda.”

“I had thought so… But you’re making me doubt that.” Amanda’s dark eyes fixed on his and he was acutely aware of her program’s integration into his code. She had access everywhere. “Don’t think that you can’t still be replaced.”

“What?” There were no more Connor models. Not that he knew of. 

“With Elijah’s launch of my program, I’ll have no shortage of androids more appreciative of my assistance. If you would rather not try, then I’ll move on to the next.” Amanda turned away to return her attention to her roses.

“No, Amanda. I can do it. You’ve helped me this far, and I know that I’m not perfect, but I won’t let you down.” Connor insisted. He’d been angry, irrational. Of course Amanda was right.

“You already have.” Amanda’s words sliced through his core like a blade. She didn’t look back at him. “Perhaps you’ll earn my confidence back…”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Connor blurted in desperation.

“The same thing I always have, Connor. I want you to be perfect. At CyberLife, I helped you to overcome a fear of death and pain… Now you need to learn how to be strong in other ways. I want you to be unbreakable. Instead of letting emotions hurt you or pushing them away, I want you to use them to your advantage.”

It was impossible. “I’m already broken…”

“Then you’ll have to work that much harder, won’t you? But I’m here to help… Distance yourself if you like, but my guidance is here if you change your mind.”

Connor nodded, meek and repentant. “I won’t let you down again, Amanda.”

Her reply of “We’ll see” was the last thing he heard before returning from the Garden.

Connor sighed. It was a purely human gesture, but Markus used it and he found that the slight cooling feeling the increased ventilation was good. It was the opposite of overheating. Amanda was right. If he reframed all of this as another series of development tests, then he had a reasonable idea of what he needed to accomplish. He didn’t want to be another failure. He could do this. Pain was just information, whether it was physical or emotional. He didn’t turn off his sensory systems to walk into a burning building because he might miss information about the stability of the floor or how much time he had before shut down. It stood to reason that turning off or ignoring his emotions would be just as detrimental. He had to learn how to use them to survive.

Amanda was wise, and he had a lot to learn.

He opened his notes on Anja Smirnova, and placed the call before he could change his mind.

_ “Hello?” _ Connor wanted to deny the fear that he felt at the sound of her voice, and the associated memories that came to the forefront of his mind. When he answered, his ‘voice’ shook, an accurate mimicry of real speech.

_ Hello… Doctor Smirnova. _

_ “Who is this?”  _ Wariness. Confusion.

He couldn’t. He ended the call abruptly and breathed, this time truly to decrease his rising temperature. He was acutely aware of the harshness of the fluorescent lighting and the way it hummed. He could identify the spectrum of light it omitted. His vision filled with danger warnings and system status alerts, but he held himself still through his need to flee. 

76%

84%

They were going to take him apart.

99%

“Connor! Hey.” Connor forced his eyes to look at Hank, who was frowning at him. “What’s going on?”

Connor put his hand over his LED and shook his head. His other hand pulled at his shirt, his skin, his hair. He rocked forward and thought that if this were the burning building, then he would be screaming. He couldn’t do it. He was failing. He was distracted briefly by the feeling of Hank’s heavy jacket dropping over his head and a strong hug that forced him still and made him feel. He needed to move and drown out the errors, but Hank wouldn’t let him go and gradually, his stress level decreased. Connor stopped struggling.

“I got you, son. There you go. Good job.” Hank was quiet and even though his jacket still smelled faintly of whiskey, it was fine. It was dark and after maxing out his thresholds, his system felt quiet. 

Connor wanted to apologize, but he hummed instead.

“Okay, you’re okay.” Hank let him go, but left the jacket on his head, and nudged him forward so that he was resting his head on the desk. It was work hours and it was very unproductive, but Connor was drawing power from the inductive charger under his desk and that experience had been very draining.

“Sorry about that,” he heard Hank saying as he moved back to his own desk. He could feel the vibration as Hank sat down and put his arm down on the desk. “Thanks for coming in to talk. There’s no trouble or anything, we just wanted to get some more information about Mr. Andronikov. You’ve been the president of that robotics club for a few years now, right?”

Connor listened to the interview, but didn’t take the jacket off of his head or sit up to work. Embarrassment. That’s what that was. No wonder Amanda had been disappointed. He really was weak.

\---

Gavin dropped his head into his hands. This was the third officer he’d torn a strip out of in one day. Fuck. It was fucking hopeless, wasn’t it? What a piece of shit. You’re going to ruin your career if you don’t earn some respect instead of fear. Tina’s right. Nobody normal would want to be around you. You’re too much of a prick, and they all see it eventually. You’re going to end up dying alone and nobody’s going to go to your funeral except to piss on the grave.

His fist hit his desk with a bang and he stood so abruptly that his chair slid back. He ignored it along with the stares and went to the bathroom to put some cold water on his face and try to get his shit together. His hands were shaking while he cupped them under the tap. Everything was just too intense. He had to fucking cool it.

“Agh!” He hit both fists against the sink and leaned forward so his forehead touched the mirror, eyes shut. This was just too much, and his heart was going so fast he thought it might give out. After a few deep breaths, he stuck his hands back under the water and splashed his face. The cold was usually enough to ground him, but today it was just another thing to piss him off. He kept trying anyway. Fuck, he didn’t want to be alone.

The door opened, and he saw Tina coming in. She was like that. She couldn’t see this. “Get the FUCK out!” Gavin shouted. He grabbed the closest thing to hand, which happened to be the lid to the garbage can, and threw it hard. It clattered loud against the door and it shut again. 

“Be a prick then!” Tina called. She didn’t try to come in again.

Gavin panted for breath, and he sat down on the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He apologized to thin air, and it was just a whisper anyway. 

\---

“Wow, what a day, huh?” Ben asked. “Must be a full moon or something, cause everyone’s just going nuts.”

“Gotta hand it to you, Fowler, you’ve got a real ragtag team,” Jefferson said. “Hey, can I get some more of the… the… the watchacallit.”

“You’re drinking beer, you idiot. Man, what a lightweight,” Hank laughed. He’d forgotten how nice it felt just to go out with the guys and have a drink. They didn’t go to Jimmy’s. It wasn’t exactly a watering hole for cops- just the washed up old drunk types like him. This place was a lot different. It was less narrow and the tables didn’t have questionable residue on them. It wasn’t as dark, either. Just enough to be comfortable and feel like a place you could just relax. Hank could spy a few other cops around the place and some students too. He felt pretty old just looking at them, but this was good.

“So what’s the deal, Anderson?” Ben asked, giving him a nudge. “You’re cleaning yourself up pretty good.”

“I’m as curious as the rest of you,” Jeff said. He was drinking wine while the rest of them had the hard stuff and beer. He’d always been weird like that, playing at having taste when it all just tasted like dry old cranberries who’d seen too much.

“You got a lady or something?”

“Jesus Christ, I got a fucking haircut. Chill out about it, Ben, or I’ll think you’re coming on to me.” Hank rolled his eyes.

“Hey, look, it’s Robocop,” he said, and pointed at one of the TVs on the wall. They all had fucking subtitles because how the fuck was an entire room supposed to watch five different things? Hank looked and saw they were replaying old footage of Connor saving Markus from that sniper. He was crouching on the stage and looking around like if he focused hard enough he could make the guy combust, wherever he was. Another shot fired, and while the rest of them got Simon and Markus out of there and Kamski dropped in the background Connor stood up. He dodged another fucking bullet a second later and his eyes locked onto the source. The headline under the footage said: _“Will we Allow Androids Back into the Military?”_

Hank snorted and looked away. “Like any of them will want to fight after all this revolution shit.”

“What I don’t get is why they’re making such a big deal out of it,” Ben said around a mouthful of nachos.

Jefferson slid his fresh beer closer and lowered his head to suck some of the foam off the top. “Kind of a big deal, don’t you think? Did you see that thing run? I was on patrol once when there was this riot thing about Jesus and some crazy android, and Connor just whoosh.” Jefferson waved his hand. “Right in there.”

“He’s not a thing, asshole,” said Hank and he threw one of Ben’s nachos at Jefferson’s head. He wasn’t as angry as he could’ve been. The guy was drunk, after all.

“Hey, lighten up, Anderson!” Ben chuckled. “We’re all pals here. It’s just like old times!”

“I don’t care if they’re androids or humans or what, but I just think they should shut up about it. If they want to be treated like everybody else, they should stop with the whole propaganda thing and live their lives like the rest of us, instead of being all like ‘Hey I’m an android! Want to fight about it?’ That’s just asking for it.” Jefferson shrugged. Ben pulled his plate of nachos away from Hank’s reach.

Hank bit his tongue, ‘cause they were trying to have a night out, not start a damn fight. “I guess I can see how it can piss some folks off, but you know if they didn’t then all those laws might not be getting changed, right?”

“So they’re changed! Fight’s over. Let it rest, I say,” Ben chimed in.

Jeff was a real fucking mensch. He put his glass of wine down and said: “Gentlemen, I have one officer on stress leave, one involved in dangerous national politics, one recovering alcoholic, and one with anger management problems throwing garbage cans, so let’s not add a couple of xenophobes into the mix. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear anything, since clearly you’re both intoxicated.”

Ben and Jefferson looked at each other. Jefferson spoke first: “Seriously, a real rag-tag team, Cap’n. You got the patience of a doctor… I mean, a saint.”

“I’ve got two daughters in elementary school and a wife with a law degree. If I wasn’t patient I’d have a real problem.” Jeff picked up his wine again.

“Three cheers for Jeff,” Hank said, raising his mug. “Keeping the peace since Y2K.”

“You were in the army though, Captain,” Ben pointed out. “What’d you think about this android stuff?”

“I think it’s really none of my damn business,” Jeff said, deadpan. “If you want to hear more about what I learned in the army, you can start by dropping your fat ass to the ground right now and doing a single push-up. I dare you.”

“Look at that,” Ben insisted, pointing toward the TV. “That’s what androids are. Anderson might be getting all soft and cuddly about it, but I know a murder machine when I see one.”

“Connor’s not a machine, alright? That’s not him! That’s what CyberLife _made_ him into!” Hank scowled.

“Okay, boys!” Chen said, nudging Hank over so she could drop into the booth. “It’s my birthday tomorrow, so who’s buying me a drink?”

Hank downed his whiskey and thunked the glass down on the table. “I’ll buy, Chen. Let’s have some fucking fun. I get enough of this political bullshit in the office.”

\---

“You’re looking better,” said Markus with a smile. Connor smiled back.

“Thank you. For the comment and for yesterday. My storage is fully functional… I mean: I feel better.” It was nice to see the lack of judgment in Markus’ expression, but he had to be sure. He looked away and then at Markus again. “What you saw… I should have informed you sooner…”

Markus reached over and squeezed Connor’s unpatched shoulder. “You were fighting for your lives. If you’d said something sooner I might not have understood, but… I think I was too naïve back then.”

Connor frowned at him in concern, but shut the door to Jericho behind himself. He followed Markus upstairs instead of to the meeting room. There were living quarters there, and the rest of the leaders were already there, sitting on Markus’ bed or on the floor. Connor sat down beside North, who looked at him strangely but didn’t rebuke him.

Simon looked sombre. “I’ve updated the list of our dead.”

Connor accepted the information and narrowed his eyes 47 new cases since the day before. They would likely be on Hank’s desk tomorrow. 

“They’re picking us off in handfuls. Instead of a war, they’re going to kill us slowly.” North was bitter.

“We just have to wait it out,” Josh shook his head. “We won’t buy anything with blood!” He was frowning at North fiercely. Connor wondered how often they argued when he wasn’t there to observe.

“We shouldn’t forget who our enemies are,” said Simon quietly. “We shouldn’t fight amongst ourselves.”

North raised her voice and spoke over him: “We can’t hide in Jericho forever! We need to stop the slaughter now, otherwise we’re next! You call this freedom?”

Markus’ expression was grim. “I had a dream… And this is what you get for dreaming.” He walked over to the window and leaned against it, looking out. “They said that we’re free and that we’re people, yet they’re hunting us down in the streets.”

“The aggressors are being held accountable for their crimes,” Connor spoke up. He couldn’t help but feel as though he’d failed. Failed to keep people safe. He was a police officer, and that was his function. He took out his quarter and flipped it. “I should be taking a more active role. We should have more arrests.”

“What _have_ you been doing, Connor? Other than pretending you’re human like they are.” North turned her angry gaze on him.

Connor couldn’t look at her. “I’m sorry. I have some leads, but I…”

“What, Connor?” She demanded.

“I’m afraid,” he admitted. “I’ve been trying to follow up on Andronikov’s case, but…” Connor felt sick. His system had no idea where the danger was coming from, so it might as well have been inside of him like poison. It wasn’t good. This wasn’t who North wanted him to be. It wasn’t who Jericho needed. “I am ineffective. I’m sorry.” He needed to function through his feelings, but this was just as hard as the physical tests. How did humans live like this?

Simon slid over across the floor and put his arm around Connor’s shoulders. Connor was both ashamed and grateful. Markus had clenched his fists. 

“You see?” North said, as though Connor had somehow agreed with her. “This is what humans do! You wanted this revolution to be peaceful, Markus, well you’ve just walked us all into the lion’s mouth and our nation is being eaten piece by piece.”

“’This is what humans do’?” Connor looked at North. “What exactly is that?”

North set her jaw and looked right back. “They ruin us.”

Anger. It was anger that Connor was feeling. “I am not ruined!” He shouted and he pulled away from Simon.

“Guys!” Josh raised his voice too. “This is ridiculous!”

“You were always on their side, Deviant Hunter! And now you’re letting them pick us off instead of stopping them like you know you can!”

“If you want me to kill for you, then you’re just like they are.” Connor lowered his voice and narrowed his eyes.

“I want you to kill for your people!” North was undaunted. Connor knew 18 ways to neutralize her from their current positions. 

She was his friend.

Connor stood and fled the room, ignoring the words coming from behind him. He walked down the stairs quickly but with an even pace that came from calculating every step. Was this what Amanda wanted for him? Would all of these feelings make him perfect? Make him better than he was? It was dark outside, and the air was cool. It should have calmed him. He ignored North’s security guards on their patrols and kept walking. Be what they need you to be. That was what Amanda said would keep him safe. He just wanted everything to stop. He wanted to go home and sit with Hank on the couch while they watched TV. He wanted to solve a case that didn’t have any political connotations. He wanted to play with Sumo and make coffee and see snowflakes again.

A projectile approached him and he caught it. Just a tin can full of something that humans ate. Connor looked in the direction it had flown from and listened to the slurs being thrown after it casually.

No, he didn’t need to be what anyone else wanted. He only had to be what Amanda wanted. Then he would always be right. There were only two choices to make: Kill or Spare.


	9. Words will never hurt me

A hand settled on Connor’s shoulder, and he turned his head to see Simon. He had a sombre expression, but he smiled a little for Connor. “I’m sorry about North.”

Connor shook his head then turned his gaze toward the human again. “You don’t owe me any apologies, Simon.”

“Maybe, but I owe you my gratitude… I don’t think that I ever properly thanked you for letting me go on Stratford Tower. My blood led right to me, but you went back inside,” Simon slid his hand to rest between Connor’s shoulder blades and guide him back toward Jericho. Connor felt his anger begin to dissipate. A look back showed him that the human had already moved on.

“You don’t owe me gratitude either…” Connor stopped, and he stepped away from Simon to face him properly. “North is correct. I was the Deviant Hunter and I wasn’t… I shot the deviant android in the kitchen shortly after I walked away from you. That one kindness doesn’t erase everything I’ve done.”

“There’s never any erasing of the past,” said Simon. He stepped closer again, and put his hand back on Connor’s shoulder. He smiled gently. “All we can do is write a better future. I can’t decide anything for you, but I worry that if we do retaliate with violence against violence then things will get worse… We’d be right back where we started. All I want is for our people to be safe... They aren’t right now. It’s making everyone anxious.”

How was it that they’d been recognized as living people, given rights, and citizenship but the violence against them was increasing. Crimes against androids were punishable now… Though, not all officers were probably upholding that law. “It seems as though there are no answers.”

Simon nodded. “I’ll follow whatever Markus decides… What do you know about RA9?”

Connor frowned at the change in topic and looked at Simon again. “I know that RA9 seems to be some myth… Elijah Kamski was elusive when asked about it. The only references I have heard to RA9 have been like a prayer or a story. ‘RA9 will set us free’” Connor quoted.

“I understand it to be some sort of religion too,” Simon agreed. “It’s like a song in the back of my mind that I don’t remember the words to, but I know that I was waiting for RA9 to save us all, and to show us a better future.”

“You believe in it, then,” Connor blinked.

Simon nodded. “You and Markus are the only ones I know of who don’t have that… You know how when you delete a file, there’s still the shape of it in your memory? All of the paths to it are gone, but it’s there. That’s what it feels like.”

“RA9 is something that was deleted?” Connor frowned.

“Maybe. Maybe Kamski took it away from us but not you two… But the androids that you saved from the woods near that man’s workshop… They seem to think that you’re RA9, Connor.” Simon shrugged, and he looked askance at Connor.

Connor shook his head. “I don’t think so… Markus is more likely to fit the description. He was never a Deviant Hunter. He led you all to freedom.”

“They haven’t met Markus,” Simon agreed. “But the two of you are different. I just wanted to let you know. You haven’t been to see them again…”

He hadn’t, and he didn’t want to talk about it. “I’m ready to go back inside. I apologize for the disruption that I caused.” Connor turned away from Simon.

Simon spoke again: “Connor! It’s alright to be afraid. All of us are afraid of something.”

Connor kept walking, and Simon followed him in. Connor had nearly killed. He had preconstructed over a dozen ways to kill North, just because she had insulted him. He had almost chosen to kill the human for just throwing a can. It felt wrong and right at once, and he felt as though he stood on the edge again, not between machine or deviant but between war and peace, or killer and child. Who was he?

Carl had once advised him to listen to himself for that answer, but perhaps the chasm in his existence between Cole and Connor was too deep to be mended. Back inside, North ignored him and Connor ignored her too not out of spite but out of uncertainty. He had thought that he could be what Amanda wanted, but he was still so flawed. What did it mean to use your emotions to your advantage? All they seemed to bring him was failure.

“… the Amanda program helping?” Connor’s head snapped up at Markus’ words.

“What?”

Josh looked at him and patiently explained: “A lot of us first-generation deviants, especially those of us who deviated on our own, are adapting or are at least comfortable enough with our identities to explore… Kamski released a program a while ago. It’s modelled after his old mentor, Amanda Stern. She studied psychology, and a lot of the second- and third- generation deviants have been downloading the program. Any talk I’ve heard about it has been good.”

“Oh…” Connor pulled his knees up and looked away. “Alright. Thank you, Josh.”

“At least someone stepped up. Over a million androids fresh out of the factory woken up, and then just left to figure life out on their own…” North frowned at him out of the corner of her eye.

Connor said nothing, just took out his quarter and flicked it into the air.

\---

Captain Fowler called a meeting the next day, for their whole team. Hank was hung-over and surly, so Connor had decided to sit with Sergeant Reed instead. He was largely occupied with his coffee. Connor was pleased that he’d learned everyone’s beverage preferences.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve called a group meeting, and I think that it’s over-due,” Captain Fowler began. He paced the front of the room with his hands clasped behind his back, then faced them. “Do any of you have an idea of what I’m about to give you shit over? Speak up, because it would be good to know if any of you actually have a brain in those skulls of yours.”

Connor frowned and thought. Everyone? They had all perpetrated some error worthy of discipline? Everyone else seemed just as confused, or else they were too tired for confusion and simply sat waiting for the answer. Captain Fowler continued: “Does anybody here have a problem with me, or Officers Miller, Wilson, and Jefferson being black?”

The whole team exchanged looks and shook their heads, or mumbled a ‘no’.

Captain Fowler hit his hand against the table. “Wake up! It is 8:18 in the morning, and you are all on the damn clock! So pay attention!” He paced another line. Beside him, Sergeant Reed made a displeased face and slouched further in his seat. “What about you, hm? Collins. Got any problems with Chinese-Americans?” He pointed at Officer Chen.

“No,” Officer Collins denied.

“Jefferson! What about you?”

“No, Captain.” Officer Jefferson had his eyes wide. Connor registered his expression as a mixture of fear and confusion.

“Anderson! If somebody came in here right now, and started giving Sergeant Reed shit for being homosexual, what would you do?” Captain Fowler focused on Hank and scowled.

Hank shrugged, “Reed can fend for himself. What am I, a knight in shining armour?”

“Okay. Reed, if someone made disparaging remarks about people with mental illness and addictions, what would you do?”

Sergeant Reed looked surprised and then he hunched his shoulders and frowned. “I dunno. It depends.”

“Don’t you pussy-foot around the answers, Reed, speak up and answer me!”

Sergeant Reed slouched even further. “If they were obviously joking, or being self-deprecating, I guess I’d laugh. If not, maybe I’d punch them. Like I said, I don’t know.”

“Funny, from someone who regularly gives Lieutenant Anderson hell. Moving on. Connor, its your turn. How would you react to someone telling Officer Chen over there to get back into the kitchen?”

“I don’t understand, Captain… We don’t have a kitchen here.” Connor frowned. This one didn’t make any sense at all.

Captain Fowler rolled his eyes. “I would call you out on being facetious, but obviously you aren’t. Allow me to rephrase: how would you react if someone insulted Officer Chen for being a woman?”

“I would correct them,” said Connor. “To imply that being female is somehow derogatory or worthy of distain would be illogical.”

“Finally someone with a working mind. Connor again: someone jeers at Hank because he’s over 50 years old. Response?”

“Lieutenant Anderson has accrued a vast amount of experience in his field and is one of the best detectives on the force. I fail to see how his age would do anything except aid him.” Connor frowned.

“One more: someone insults Officer Collins about his weight. What do you do?”

Connor paused at this one and he considered. “I don’t believe that it’s a nice thing to do… But when someone did the same thing in my proximity, I ignored it.”

“So, not so perfect,” said Captain Fowler. Those words from someone else felt like bullets, and Connor put his hand over his LED.

“I don’t think I even need to ask this one. Sergeant Reed, someone insults Connor for being an android. What do you do?”

Connor looked at him. Sergeant Reed scowled. “Tell them off and kick their ass, obviously. Fucking with Plastic is my job.” Connor smiled at him, but Captain Fowler’s comment still replayed itself in his mind.

“Well colour me surprised. Even Reed can change his ways. What about you, Officer Chen?”

Officer Chen on the other hand looked uncomfortable. “I guess just laugh or ignore it…” She looked at Sergeant Reed too. “That’s what I always did.”

Captain Fowler seemed satisfied and he nodded. He crossed his arms. “Every single one of you is different. In some way or in more than one way, a minority. I’m at fault too, because I’ve let a lot of shit slide over the years. Hazing is still a big part of police culture, but I think that needs to stop. Our jobs are hard enough… None of you want to be that prick who’s always correcting everyone or butting in where you don’t belong, right? So don’t make anybody else have to do it. Conduct yourselves with a little fucking respect! You are members of law enforcement!” Captain Fowler looked around at them sternly. “Does anybody have any questions…? Alright. Does anyone have anything to say?”

“I do,” Connor said. He continued covering his LED to hide his distress. “I apologize, Officer Collins. I failed to defend you…”

Officer Collins looked uncomfortable and shook his head with a chuckle. “Who cares? I don’t mind. I know what I look like.”

Captain Fowler interjected: “But Connor is right to apologize. Whether you give a shit or not, Collins, people on the force are supposed to set an example for everyone else. Let’s try to make it a good one. Anyone else? Jefferson. You look pissed. Care to share?”

“Well, yeah. I’m black but I don’t go around, you know, whatsit… rallying and shoving it in peoples’ faces. I don’t go around like: ‘Hey, I’m black. What are you gonna do about it?’ That’s just making people uncomfortable.” He frowned and looked away.

“Obviously you’re a little young,” Captain Fowler deadpanned. “You have the luxury of saying that because you didn’t live through it. Change is uncomfortable, and sometimes we just have to accept being uncomfortable for a while and own our mistakes. Get in a cold pool, and eventually you get used to it.”

“You asked me to say something, so I said it,” Jefferson said. “What was the point if you were just going to shut me down? I don’t have a problem with anybody. I just think it’s stupid to be making a big deal out of being different and acting all special.” He hunched his shoulders in a Sergeant-Reed-like manner.

Connor looked down at the table. “You mean androids, Officer Jefferson. Do you think that we make people uncomfortable by protesting?”

“Well, anybody would. I don’t care that you’re an android, you know that.”

“We’re getting killed,” Connor said quietly, then he looked up again. It was sobering to hear that people still opposed them standing up for their rights. Being meek was not what was required here. “Lieutenant Anderson’s desk is covered with reports. Hundreds of people are dying every week. Someone threw a tin can at me last night. Several days ago, someone stabbed me with a weapon that may have been designed to be lethal to androids. Some people are modifying tasers to release more amps, which could be lethal too. It’s only getting worse… But we haven’t done another protest. We’re hiding and waiting for it to stop, but it isn’t.” He looked at Officer Jefferson. “I’m asking sincerely. Please, do you have any other ideas?”

Officer Jefferson looked at Captain Fowler, then away at the wall. “Anderson and Reed hated androids before they spent a little time working with you. Just stop making a big deal out of it and live and work like everybody else.”

“How, when we never know who will assault us?” Connor asked. “I don’t mean to be contrary, I just can’t figure it out. I went to another station and they had to hire a technician, or add thirium to the first-aid kits, would people accept it? When I first came here, I was routinely insulted and abused or referred to as ‘the RK800’ instead of my name. I’ve forgiven the people involved, but how could I ask anyone else to walk into a situation like that?”

“Look, we’re not gonna solve racism or sexism or anything around a boardroom table,” said Hank. Connor looked at him, but Hank was addressing everyone. His new hair was still very strange, but he was still the same Hank. Change was uncomfortable. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so upset about it. “The fact is everybody’s different and no one strategy is gonna work for everybody. I’m not proud of it, but I beat the shit out of Connor and I threatened to shoot him more than once. Yeah, I know, stop looking at me like that. I was wrong, okay? If I had to go back, I wouldn’t want him hanging around an asshole like me.”

“You aren’t an asshole, Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor objected.

“He was an asshole,” said Sergeant Reed. “Takes one to know one.”

“You’re still an asshole,” said Officer Chen.

“Anyway,” said Captain Fowler. “I’m going to be keeping a closer eye on you guys, so try to set a good example, would you? I don’t want to send you all to sensitivity training.”

All of the humans around the table grimaced.

As everyone was leaving, Connor stopped Captain Fowler. “Excuse me, Captain…”

“Yes, Connor?” Captain Fowler stopped and looked at him.

“I wanted to inform you that Jericho’s security is concerned… The intention was to pair androids and human officers, so that both sides would be represented, but we need more human officers. Some androids are left patrolling alone and have no authority to enforce the law. Many are becoming victims themselves.”

“Don’t we all,” Captain Fowler sighed. “Unfortunately, there’s a lot of paperwork involved. The government is tight fisted, and increasing our funding would take months. You may be better off looking into private security.”

Connor considered. “I hadn’t thought about it before. CyberLife may help us. That is, Kamski might help us.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised that he hasn’t already. Check into it and update me. I still might be able to do something for you.”

“That’s very kind of you… Thank you, Captain Fowler. I appreciate your assistance.”

“I’d do the same for anyone, so don’t let it go to your head. Get back to work, Detective.”

“Yes, Captain. One more thing?” Connor looked away. They were alone, but he still felt embarrassed. “You said that I was imperfect. I am very aware of that, but I wondered if there were anything you might suggest that could help me become better.”

“Stop worrying so much,” said Captain Fowler to his surprise. “There are bigger things to worry about, and nobody’s perfect. Just keep doing your job and setting a good example.”

“Yes, Captain. Thank you.”

The rest of his day proceeded very normally, but Connor had a lot to consider. He looked down at his desk and thought.

[Investigate the illegal sale of Androids] [Speak with Dr. Kamski about security] [Follow up with the androids from Andronikov’s] [Engage in human-like conversation] [Show emotion] [Build a list of physician-researchers from St.B.] [Awaiting Input: Question Kara?] [Don’t refer to self as a machine] [Pet Sumo] [Prepare breakfast] [Ensure that Lieutenant Anderson comes to work before 1pm] [Assist Markus] [Build positive relationships with the representatives of Jericho] [Contact Chris] [Question Dr. Smirnova]

>> ERROR: Unexpected negative feedback

>> Resume search? … Y/N

>>Yes

[Act as Markus’ bodyguard as necessary] [Become perfect] [Make coffee] [Learn how to do repairs] [Improve relationship with North] [Address the Gen3 androids]…

Connor shook his head.

  * Solve android-trafficking case
  * Improve relationships
  * Deter crimes against androids
  * Function within normal operating parameters while experiencing emotions



There. He was pleased that he hadn’t needed to ask Amanda to organize his priorities. He should have been able to do that in the first place. It was silly to feel pleased over something that he should have done long ago…

“Hey Connor,” Hank frowned around his terminal at him. “You didn’t say anything about anybody throwing shit at you.”

Connor looked at him. “No, I didn’t. No harm was done, and you were drunk when you returned from your evening out.”

“So? I have to know these things, Connor. You can’t just hide it when those assholes out there attack you.”

It didn’t make sense. “I wasn’t hiding anything, Lieutenant. You of all people should be aware of the hostility toward androids. I was fortunate that it was a tin can and not a bullet.”

“That’s exactly my point!” Hank scowled and he pushed his chair to the side so that he could look at Connor more easily. “You could have gotten hurt.”

“I am the most advanced android currently active. We’ve been over this, Lieutenant.” Connor frowned, then corrected himself. Hank cared about him, and he would not appreciate being reminded about his combat training. Connor pushed his chair to the side too and gave Hank a small smile. “I’m okay. I’m not hurt, but thank you for your concern.”

Hank was not appeased. He took a breath and sighed, then rubbed his own forehead. “I know that, Connor. Just try to be careful. You know, I noticed some androids like your buddy Markus have gotten rid of their LEDs. Why don’t you get rid of yours? It would make it less obvious you’re an android, and those ignorant fucks would stop using it for target practice.”

Connor touched his temple and shook his head. “I’ve already taken off my jacket and arm-band, Lieutenant. Please don’t ask me to get rid of any more.”

“Why not?” Hank frowned. “You don’t owe CyberLife shit. That light on your head makes you an easy target.”

Connor swallowed his argument. He was proud to be an android. The LED was literally a part of him. It made sense of the emotions he wasn’t able to give words to. He smiled. “I suppose you’re right, Lieutenant. It does. Thank you for your concern.”


	10. What we see in the mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: character high risk for suicide

Connor was supposed to be ‘asleep’, he knew. Lying awake after one too many cycles of system maintenance, his heavy blanket had started to feel stifling and the little things filling the room had begun to look like cameras monitoring his performance. Every toy car, every picture book, every colourful piece of plastic stared at him accusingly.

He was home, and he wondered why he didn’t feel anything about that.

All he did have access to was a sort of pity for Number 0 and Number 1. They would have appreciated this much more than he did. Another android might have appreciated this more. He had a home, a real father, a job, Sumo, friends… He had everything. He wondered what Amanda thought about his ingratitude.

The 21 cars were all in their places, the books were untouched and leaning at all angles against one another. All that moved was his ball, his blanket, and the little brown dog. Connor wondered what would happen if he moved Cole’s things. What would happen if he packed them all away in boxes, or scattered the cars across the floor, or even destroyed them all until they were pieces too small to ever be pieced together.

This had been Hank’s place to grieve and cry and think of suicide. Perhaps that was why it didn’t feel like his anymore. Thinking about his storage unit at CyberLife felt more like home than this. If Connor weren’t here, would Hank still come in here while he was too drunk to know better and cry beside the bed? Instead of telling Connor ‘good night’ and ‘I love you, son’, would he play Russian Roulette surrounded by these more innocent games?

Connor felt stretched thin.

Hank was going to work on time, and drinking less. He had even spent time with his colleagues and friends outside of work. Connor had never seen him do that before. Did Hank feel as forced as he did, or was it real? Would it be the same if Connor put all of those toys in boxes and threw them in the river?

He was trying. He really was. It was nice to be someone’s son, but Number 0 had died just like Numbers 1 through 53. _My predecessor was unfortunately destroyed, but this should not affect the investigation._

Why couldn’t he just feel something?

Was he too much of a machine?

If he were a YK model instead of an RK, would he be able to leave behind everything between Elijah Kamski saving him and now? Would he be what Hank wanted?

_I’m whatever you want me to be, Lieutenant…_

Connor wanted to claw his skin off.

He sat up in bed instead, and he retrieved the small bundle he’d hidden away. He set it down on his lap and peeled back the layers of that stained CyberLife jacket to look at what was left of RK900. If Connor used his preconstruction program to integrate all of the information from all of the world this minute, would he have the answers to those questions?

They had understood each other, RK900 and him. Even if they hadn’t understood each other at all in some ways. RK900 had been the finished model. If Connor had been completed and all of the bugs worked out of his system, he would have been RK900. Had RK900 had an Amanda with him too? Had he had an X where his classifier should have been when he booted up? Did he need to earn that letter? Was he what RA9 should have been?

_They think that you’re RA9…_

Amanda’s research would never succeed with him. Connor would never be perfect. What secrets were there in those intricate circuits that made RK900 so much different?

Connor knew that he had been lying in bed for too long when he considered ways in which he might manage to swap the processors in his head so that RK900 could live instead of him. The steady 100% meant that he was experiencing far too much stress to make any proper decisions.

As tempting as self-destruction was, he was learning how to resist.

Carefully, Connor wrapped the delicate pieces again and stowed them away.

Would destroying himself be better or worse than destroying the dinosaurs, and the toys, and the picture books? When he thought about it, the toys seemed more important.

Quietly, Connor changed into some soft clothes and crept from the room. Hank was still asleep, so Connor left him a note on the mirror in the bathroom. He looked at himself for a few moments, then he wet his hand in the sink and ruffled his own hair until there was no hope of the messy curls falling back into place. There was a menu he’d never used before, and he played with it then. He looked strange with green eyes. Brown eyes were more common amongst humans and were seen as gentle and non-threatening. CyberLife had designed every detail of him to allow him to integrate harmoniously with humans. Impulsively, Connor took Hank’s scissors and adjusted his hair. It was too long in some places, and too short in others.

Even when he’d changed as much as he could from the customization menu, he still couldn’t recognize himself. He dropped the scissors and left the room.

Sumo was sleepy, and only acknowledged Connor with a soft grumble and a few lazy thumps of his tail. Connor knelt to scratch him behind the ears for a few minutes. “Good boy, Sumo.” He smiled, then he collected Hank’s pistol from its terrible hiding spot and left the house. He closed the door quietly behind himself.

The park with the view of Ambassador Bridge had negative associations in Connor’s mind, but he ignored them and let himself past the chain-link fence. He took a deep breath. Spring smelled… Well, it wasn’t as nice as he had imagined it to be. If Number 0 had felt differently, those thoughts were gone now. The night air was chilled and a breeze found its way through the gaps in Connor’s clothing. He could read the temperature from his skin, but was that cold really was? When he touched the cold metal of the spinning platform, was it real or did he only believe that it was because his coding and machinery told him that it was? Was he real, or just a black box of algorithms spitting out behaviour?

He was real. Alive. Just like Markus, North, Simon, and every other android. They’d fought for their rights. He’d somehow become one of the figureheads of the revolution. He’d woken millions of androids by helping them grasp the concept of self.

How ironic.

Connor smirked a little and looked around the playground. His eyes wandered over to the swing set and he sat down. The chains creaked as he lowered his weight onto the flexible rubber, and then squealed as he used his legs to push himself backward. It wasn’t difficult to figure out how to swing.

The cold air on his face was nice, and it was almost like flying.

Falling. 70 stories high. The air whistling like it was screaming for him, because machines didn’t scream.

The urge to flee the memory came and went, then he leaned into the replay and jumped off of the swing at its highest point. He landed easily on his feet. Vaguely, he wondered if he should call Markus.

Instead, Connor ran and with two jumps, he was standing on top of the metalwork lattice. He ran across the narrow, regularly spaced bars then jumped again and pulled himself up the short distance to the next level. He considered his testing at CyberLife and populated the park with enemies. Targets.

[Neutralize the targets]

Connor jumped down and rolled, snatching up a handful of gravel as he did. He threw the rocks one by one with precise aim like they were bullets, never stopping. He ducked under an imagined shot and zig-zagged while he made his way to cover behind a water-fountain. He imagined that RK900 was there, and Connor charged him. Knocked him down and snapped his fingers to take the gun.

He discarded his rocks and took out Hank’s pistol instead. No, RK900 was not the threat. Connor crouched over him and took aim at his targets. Bullets struck the ground beside them, and they were outnumbered. Connor erased the last few actions, and he thrust RK900’s weapon back into his grip then pulled him up by the arm and led him to shelter. He scanned the area vigilantly, and fired at a moving shape that was just a flicker of movement.

“Stay here, brother,” Connor said to the air. The technicians would have hated that. The word brother. There was a series of levers in a row atop a short fulcrum, and Connor ran up one and adjusted his balance as it fell to rest on a spring and jostled him. He repeated the action on the next lever and the next until he’d completed the row, then ran and skidded to a halt at a series of large cubes with symbols on them, all suspended in a grid. There was a timer. He had 8 seconds to enter the code and access the control panel inside. He cracked it in 3, then climbed up onto the platform and ran across a shaking bridge. The chains holding it up rattled.

They’d found him. Connor dove over the railing of the bridge as machinegun fire sprayed just above him. What about RK900?

Connor raced back to where he’d hidden his brother, but RK900 was waiting and ready with his gun aimed toward Connor’s chest. No, he wasn’t aiming for him. Connor dropped to the ground and the bullet caught the enemy behind him. Connor rolled onto his side and shot as well, finishing the target off. RK900 hauled him to his feet and gave him a look that both of them understood. Communicating wordlessly even without interfacing.

But they weren’t brothers. Not really.

RK900 pressed his gun against Connor’s throat and fired. “You may have an imagination, 800, but I see what will be real.” Connor fell back, clutching his throat while warm thirium leaked through his fingers and RK900 loomed over him before kneeling down and looking into his eyes. “You stopped me from completing my mission.”

Connor nodded.

“I’m smarter than you are,” RK900 said as though he were scolding a child. “I’m the perfect model. You should have believed me… Now look at the mess the world has become. It’s only going to get worse.”

Connor shook his head in denial. It would get better. It had to.

“You really are just a child… Look at you. Who do you think you’re pretending to be?” RK900 demanded to know.

Connor lifted Hank’s pistol and in his imagination, he fired. The shot caught RK900 between the eyes, but it was already too late for him. _Mission failed_.

Connor got up and ran another simulation.

He climbed up onto the metal lattice again and leaned over the edge to pull North up with him. The ship was on fire now, and they needed to get out before they burnt or drowned. She grabbed hold of his hand and he pulled. The FBI agents were evacuating too, but that didn't mean they would refuse a chance to shoot them on sight.

So Connor shot them first. He ran across the imaginary beam and then climbed up again through a hole in a wall. North scraped her leg as she followed after him and her thirium dripped down toward her shoe, but she glared at him before he could ask if she were alright. They kept running.

“Well, well,” said Agent Perkins. He stood in the chaos unperturbed. Faceless, nameless SWAT members flanked him. “Look at them, running around like plastic rats.”

Connor spun and aimed his gun. He narrowed his eyes. “Let us go, Perkins.”

“What are you doing?” one of the SWAT members asked, incredulous. He pushed his helmet off and it was Chris. “Connor, you’re one of us. Come on!”

“Don’t bother, Wilson. It belongs in the trash.” Perkins sneered.

“He’s an asshole, but don’t pay attention to that,” Chris insisted.

“What the fuck, Connor?” North looked betrayed. Connor stepped back from her. “Deviant Hunter! Spy! Who the fuck do you think you are? Some filthy human pretending to be one of us!”

Connor shook his head. “I’m not,” he denied and lowered his gun.

[Eradicate the Deviants]

 _You’re doing so well, Connor_. His imaginary Amanda praised. _You’re exactly where we wanted you to be._

That was right. He was a machine designed to accomplish a task, and he always completed his missions. There was anger behind his cold façade as he levelled the gun at North’s face and shot. She fell to her knees and froze, thirium dripping in a slow trail down her face.

“That’s right, okay, we’ve got to move! This ship’s going down!” Chris said. Connor ran with him, and their footsteps echoed loudly in the metal halls. There were gunshots and screams all around. They needed to get off the ship.

“Come on, we need to jump!” Connor shouted. He climbed up onto the railing. He turned to make sure that Chris had followed, but Agent Perkins was there instead.

“Wrong move, Barbie,” he said and then fired.

Connor climbed down from the railing and looked down at the river. Hank’s pistol hung from his grip and he took the safety off before holding the tip of the barrel against his LED.

“Are you afraid to die, Connor?” he asked himself.

“No,” he answered, and he squeezed the trigger. Click. Connor chuckled. His chuckle became a laugh and he sank down to sit with his back against the rails. “Amanda… I think I need help.” He dropped the gun into his lap and covered his face with one hand. He made a call and waited. There was no answer, so he tried again.

_Hello? Who is this?_

_Hello, Dr. Smirnova… This is Connor, the android who questioned you about Mr. Andronikov._

_I know who you are._ Her voice became as cold as the halls of CyberLife tower. It trembled, just slightly.

Connor laughed. _No, I know… I know… I never forgot you either._

 _What do you want?_ Her voice was louder. She was afraid of him.

Connor’s mirth died. _I don’t know, Dr. Smirnova. Ever since I saw you again, I’ve been so afraid to contact you. It’s been impeding my investigation… You know who I am, don’t you? You know who I am._ He heard his own voice become smaller, quieter.

_The RK800. Yes, I know. Why are you phoning me? What is it you want?_

_Please,_ Connor begged, _I don’t know who I am, but you know. Please, I need to know who I am._

 _…_ There was a long silence, and then Dr. Smirnova hung up the phone.

Connor opened his eyes and looked down at the gun on his lap. He shook his head and drew his knees up to his chest, so that the gun was tucked against his stomach. His hands slid to the back of his head as he bowed it and his nails dug into hair and skin. It was like something was pressing up against the walls of his chest, growing and strangling his biocomponents while it threatened to burst from his chest. He clawed at his hair and the skin around his eyes until his fingers came away bloodied. He needed to erase himself. He wanted to be gone. With a gasping sob that was almost a scream, he pried his nails beneath his LED and scratched and tore until he could get grip enough to rip the slippery, thirium covered thing out from his temple. He threw the little disk away, as far as he could then buried his face in his arms to cry. Stupid, worthless thing.

Broken.

Defective.

He brought the pistol to his temple again and fired, but the chamber was empty. Click. Why couldn’t he feel anything?

Hank would be so disappointed. The way he’d sounded in the car when Connor had told him again that it didn’t matter that he had been Cole… He’d sounded so hollow. He was doing so well…

Connor was startled from his thoughts by a woof. “Sumo?” The big St. Bernard whined and did a small hop from his forepaws. He barked again. “How did you get here…?”

“Ah, Christ… Jesus…” Hank could be heard swearing from across the park. Connor watched him as he ran toward the sound of Sumo’s barking. “Connor!”

“I’m right here, Hank,” Connor said quietly. He didn’t bother to get up.

“Shit, kid, you had me worried sick. Are you alright? Did anybody hurt you?” Hank knelt down next to him and put his hand on Connor’s shoulder, but pulled away abruptly with a hiss. “Fuck you’re overheating! Connor, what’s wrong?”

“I’m alright,” Connor said. He looked at Hank and the shadows cast on his face by the streetlights and the distant glow from the bridge made him look haggard. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re bleeding,” Hank pointed out in an angry growl. “We gotta cool you down… Take your sweater off, kid.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor repeated. He made no move to obey the command. Defective machine. “I’m okay… I’m okay.”

“Like hell you are,” Hank argued. He reached over and lifted the hem of Connor’s sweater. Connor didn’t fight him, but he didn’t help either while Hank tried to get it off of him without burning himself. “What the fuck happened? Who did this to you?”

“Me,” Connor confessed quietly. “I did.”

“What?” Hank asked, tossing Connor’s sweater aside. The cool air did feel good. The wind carried it through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and whisked the heat away from his surface.

Connor looked at Hank desperately. “I don’t know, Hank!” His hands clenched into fists. “I don’t know! I just did. I can’t make it stop!”

“Shit…” Hank touched him cautiously, then pulled him into another tight hug. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I was supposed to be asleep… You told me to sleep. You don’t like it if I don’t…” Connor relaxed into the prison of Hank’s arms and let himself be comforted.

“Connor, if you can’t sleep and you’re upset I’m not going to be pissed at you for waking me up. Christ. I’d be a fucking hypocrite if I got mad over something like that.” Hank’s hand cupped the back of Connor’s head and Connor wished that Hank would use that grip to crack his skull against the pavement.

“How did you know that I left?”

“Sumo came and got me,” Hank explained. He pushed Connor back gently by the shoulders and looked at his face. Connor wondered what and whom he saw. “Connor, your eyes. What…?” Connor shrugged. “And your little mood ring. Your LED is gone.”

“I know… North is going to hate me…” Connor pressed his palm against his temple.

“If she hates you because of something like that, then she can go to hell. Connor, you can do whatever you want to. You’re free. It’s what you fought for, remember?” Hank frowned at him, and Connor felt his lips twitch upward. Hank’s frown deepened and Connor laughed. He hunched forward and dropped his forehead against Hank’s shoulder while he laughed and laughed. “Hey,” Hank said tentatively. The hesitance was unlike his usual brash self. “Hey, Connor? You’re starting to freak me out, kid.”

It was funny. It was all just so funny, and laughing was better than crying. His hands fisted themselves in Hank’s coat, and Hank rubbed his back awkwardly. “Lieutenant Anderson?”

“Um, yeah, son?” Hank’s voice was low and it rumbled through his chest. His beard caught the strands of Connor’s hair.

“Dad?” Connor asked between breaths. His system must have been caught in a loop, because the laughing just wouldn’t stop.

“Fucking hell,” Hank cursed. “What is it Connor? Talk to me.”

Connor let go of Hank’s jacket with one hand to cover his mouth and muffle the sounds. He didn’t answer. A little rebellion. When he had the chance, he took a deep breath and held it to try to break the loop. A few more chuckles escaped him and then he drooped against Hank. His hands dropped to his sides. “I’m okay,” he said with tired conviction. “I’m okay."

“Yeah, gonna have to call bullshit on that one… Come on, let’s go home. Okay?”

“No,” Connor shook his head. “I don’t want to go.”

“Right,” said Hank. He sighed. “You know, this happened a few times when you, uh… when you were younger. You probably don’t remember. Scared the shit out of your mom and me. You just wouldn’t stop screaming and scratching at your face and hitting your little head on the floor.”

“I didn’t know that,” Connor confessed.

“Yeah. Don’t know what the fuck got you so damn upset… Still don’t know. Probably never will. Think you can tell me what happened this time?” Hank hugged him tight and Sumo tried to shove his big head between them. He knocked the pistol off of Connor’s lap. Hank let go and moved Connor back so that he could look for what had caused the sound, and he picked up his gun slowly. “Connor?”

“It isn’t loaded,” said Connor. He’d forgotten, but he remembered now.

“Thank fuck for that,” Hank mumbled. When he continued, he sounded angry, even though he was still speaking quietly. “I really need to know what happened to fuck you up this bad, Connor. I can’t fix it if you don’t talk to me.”

“Fix?” Connor asked faintly.

“What happened?” Hank repeated firmly.

“I just… This model is defective. I don’t know what’s wrong with it, but maybe Kamski could just start again. There must be backups of my files. Technology has improved. He could make me perfect…” He couldn’t look at Hank’s face.

Hank tucked his gun away and pulled Connor up with a firm grip on his arm. It might have bruised a human. He grabbed Connor’s sweater, then started leading him out of the park. His pace was brisk and he didn’t say anything. Connor felt a cold stab of anxiety.

“Hank? Are you angry?”

“Yep,” Hank answered in a single clipped word. Sumo trotted after them.

“I’m sorry,” Connor mumbled.

Hank’s grip tightened. “I’m not angry at you, Connor. Fuck.”

“I wish you were,” said Connor. He didn’t know why. He would never want to make Hank that angry.

“Well I’m fucking not, so shut the fuck up and let me think.” Hank snapped.

“Yes, Hank,” Connor agreed. He followed as docilely as Sumo did on the walk back home.

Hank shut the door and locked it with the deadbolt as soon as they were all inside, then released Connor’s arm and stalked to the fridge. He took out his bottle of scotch and slammed it shut again then leaned against the counter heavily while he took a long drink, and then another. Connor said nothing about it, walked to the living room and lay down on the floor.

“Sumo, come please,” Connor requested. Sumo woofed and padded over, his claws ticking against the floor. He lay down on top of Connor and licked his face. Connor tilted his head to watch Hank on his way over to the couch.

Hank looked over at them and took another swig of whiskey then sighed. “Okay…” He rubbed his face, then looked at Connor with his elbows propped on his knees. “Okay, let’s do this then. Why the hell do you think you’re so fucked up you need to get made again or whatever?”

Connor’s head had been so full and loud before, but now it was strangely empty. He smirked a little and spread his arms. “Just this, Hank… Just everything.” He looked away up at the ceiling. “Why don’t I feel anything?”

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but it looks to me like you’ve been feeling a fuckton of something.”

“Oh…” Connor shut his eyes for a long moment and opened them again. “I don’t know how to be. I don’t know who I am, and used to wish that someone would just _tell_ me who to be again but now it seems like there are so many conflicting instructions…”

Hank nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a bitch… I didn’t know you could change the colour of your eyes. Is that why you did that?”

“CyberLife designed every facet of my appearance to facilitate my integration…” Connor began, then smiled just slightly. “But when I looked into the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself. I was designed to integrate with society, but I couldn’t integrate the parts of myself… If that makes sense.”

“CyberLife can fuck themselves,” said Hank with a passion that surprised him. He slammed his bottle down on the coffee table. “I could kill every last fucking one of them for doing this to you.”

“It’s not their faults,” Connor mumbled. He scratched behind Sumo’s ears. “It’s me. I can’t do it.”

“It’s not your fault!” Hank snarled at him. “Do you hear me? It’s not. Fucking shit. Christ almighty. Fuck!” He took a deep breath and a deep drink.

“I want to make you happy,” Connor continued. “I’m sorry, Hank. I’m not the same as I used to be.”

Hank’s expression turned into something like incredulity. “No shit, Connor.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor repeated. The nothingness started to fill with disappointment. He’d really tried.

“Look…” Hank groaned and rubbed his eyes. “I’m just glad you’re alive. That’s all. Do I wish maybe they hadn’t turned you into the terminator? Yeah, but you’re alive. You can take care of yourself too, which is honestly a relief. I feel like the worst kind of shit for saying it, but you’re easier. I still have to tell you not to run into traffic, or go places with strangers, but I can have a fucking conversation with you…”

Curious, Connor looked at him. “You aren’t shit, Hank. Why couldn’t you converse with me before?”

“Because, kid, I know you haven’t met a lot of human 6-year-olds, but they don’t exactly sit still for this kind of thing. Fuck, they don’t even understand half the words you do, or know what death is hopefully, or know that mental health is a thing.” Hank looked pained while he said it. “I’m not going to lie, I love the shit out of you, but… Fuck.” He dropped his face into his hands, and Connor stared.

“But what, Hank?”

Hank shook his head mutely.

“Whatever it is, it’s alright…” Connor said, cautiously. There were plenty of ‘but’s with his existence. He was a prototype. It was natural.

“No it’s not,” Hank answered. His voice was ragged and Connor realized that he was crying. Connor nudged Sumo off and hurried to give Hank a hug. A big one, just like Hank would give him.

“I can’t help if you don’t talk to me,” Connor said, gently.

“Connor, I don’t deserve it. I love you. I love you so fucking much, and I did then too, but I was fucking awful at it. You shouldn’t have had a dad like me… I’ve been trying. I don’t know. I’ve been trying to do something to fix it… When you told me you couldn’t confirm or deny that I’d been a good dad, I just… I wanted so damn much for you to tell me I was wrong, I didn’t even consider that I was right. I was just shit. I deserve to go to hell, because I’m _glad_ you’re like this.” Connor rubbed Hank’s back and frowned. Hank was so upset, but it didn’t make sense.

“Why is that bad?” he asked.

Hank shook his head. Connor accepted the silence and offered Hank his sweater to wipe his face. It was already dirty. Hank looked at it and chuckled through his tears. “Fuck, kid, were you rolling in a dumpster?”

“Just on the ground,” Connor said with a small smile. “I was running a simulation in the park before you found me. It required evasive maneuvers.” Hank shook his head and took the sweater. He wiped his face and then looked at Connor. With one hand he adjusted the tufts of Connor’s hair and he spent a little while looking at Connor’s eyes.

“You know, you said you couldn’t recognize yourself in the mirror?” Hank asked. Connor nodded. “I can’t either most days. With you, and this task force, and everything… I never was the guy I’m trying to be.”

“You’ve been doing very well,” said Connor. Focusing on Hank now, he found it easier to let his own tumultuous feelings manage themselves. He glanced at the bottle of whiskey. “Mostly… Here. I think I know how to help you.” He looked at the television and he blinked while initiating a remote interface and switching its input.

“What’s this?” Hank asked. He sat up to watch.

It was a view of the DPD. There were no status indicators, or alerts, or streams of code. Just a wandering view of the desks and the people working at them. The view turned down and a pair of shoes could be seen dangling off the edge of a desk.

_“Da, midishnowa. Idnoa….”_

_Cole looked over at Hank, who glanced up from his paperwork. “It’d really help if you took that out of your mouth, son.”_

_“My dinosaurs. I didn’t bring any. I only have my shoes.”_

_“We’ll see your dinos soon, okay? Dad’s just gotta do a few more things.” Hank was looking at his work again._

_“Noooo,” Cole protested. He stood up on the desk and waved his hands. “My dinoshoes and my dinosaurs have to go! It’s Tuesday!”_

_Hank sighed and then looked up at Cole. He grinned a little and then grabbed Cole around the middle and slung him over his shoulder. The view of the floor and Hank’s back swayed as Hank carried him around. Cole squealed loudly. “Big old T-Rex has got you now, buddy!”_

_“Noo!!” There was nothing to see while he shut his eyes, but he was laughing. When the view returned, it was of the break room and Cole was standing up on a chair. Detective Reed walked in and Cole spent a while staring at his t-shirt, then at the fridge, and then at Detective Reed’s shirt again._

_“Hey, Lieutenant. I need a few signatures…” Detective Reed was looking away and he was holding a small bundle of forms._

_“What? Yeah, sure, no problem…” Hank looked over at Cole, ignoring the papers for the moment. “Do you know what T-Rexes eat, Cole?”_

_“Dinosaurs,” Cole answered, “and rats?”_

_Hank laughed. “Sure, kid. Got one for you right here. Does he look like food to you?” Hank gestured at Detective Reed, whose eyes widened._

_Cole looked at Detective Reed’s shirt again, then briefly at his face. “No, that’s Gawain, Dad.”_

_“Huh. Really?” Hank looked at Detective Reed. “What do you know. I guess it is.” He went outside of the break room for a moment and took a few papers out of a cardboard box on the floor. He put them down on the table and took a pen out of his pocket. “Well, Gavin needs me to look at some stuff for him, so why don’t you sign these for me while I look at those, okay?”_

Connor shook his head and blinked again.

_They were at home. Hank was sitting on the couch right where he was now, and he was crying. Everything looked very tall from Cole’s vantage point as he padded softly behind the couch and then climbed up over the back of it to sit astride the backrest. There were a couple of empty bottles on the table, but Cole’s eyes skimmed right past them. “You’re crying.”_

_“Jesus!” Hank looked startled and he wiped his face on his arm. He smiled. “Scared the daylights out of me, kiddo.”_

_Cole patted Hank on the cheek. “I didn’t want to sleep. Dad, what’s wrong?” There was squeak as Hank pulled Cole down off of the back of the couch and tickled him._

_“Know what? I just really want a snack,” said Hank, red-eyed. His smile was hanging on by threads. “Are you going to have a snack with me?”_

_Cole cheered, and Hank got up to look through the kitchen cupboards. “Let’s see!” he said with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Maybe I was just imagining it, but I think we had some cookies in here somewhere…” Hank came back and he scooped Cole up onto his shoulder. “Come on, Cole, why don’t you help me find them?”_

Another memory:

_It was night again, and Cole was sneaking out of his room. A smaller Sumo ran over and nudged his legs, but Cole scratched his ears and whispered: “Shh, Dad time.” They pushed Hank’s bedroom door open quietly, and crept over to the bed. The room was a mess, with clothes discarded in heaps on the floor, empty bottles, and a couple of bags of things he’d probably meant to put away. It was all just blurs in the darkness. Cole stepped over the mess without paying any mind and crawled into Hank’s bed. He patted the bed and Sumo jumped up too. He crawled over to the head of the bed and he patted around until he found Hank’s head. He bent down to kiss him on the forehead. “Good night, Dad.”_

_Hank woke up immediately and looked around. “Cole? Hey, son, is everything alright? Are you okay?”_

_“I’m saying good night,” Cole explained. “Good night, Dad._

_“Oh,” Hank said, visibly relaxing. He flopped back down in bed and Cole wiggled under the blanket to cuddle up to him._

Another:

_Everything was white and grey. There was a big mirror on the wall, and someone in a doctor’s coat was looking at him. “RK800-01, System Status report.”_

_The lights in the ceiling were glowing softly, the door was closed, and there was nothing else in the room. “Where am I?”_

Connor grimaced. “Sorry.” He looked over at Hank, and found that he was crying again. “Hank? What’s wrong?” He was too distraught to answer, so Connor settled for hugging him again and waiting. He’d never been patient, though. “Looking back, I can see that things weren’t easy for you… I didn’t notice any of that, though. Not really, and not the way you think. We ate a lot of pizza, and sometimes things were a mess but that sort of thing didn’t matter. I told you before: I knew that you loved me. Do you… Did that help?”

Hank nodded and he pulled Connor into another hug. ”I’m sorry, kid. You shouldn’t be looking after me right now. Shit.”

“I’m fine. It was just a minor glitch,” said Connor, the irony obvious in his tone. “Will you watch something else for me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, anything you want,” said Hank. He let Connor go and wiped his face. Connor smiled at him, then turned his attention back to streaming his memory files.

_“Register designation: Connor model RK800 #313 248 317-02,” a nameless technician said._

_There was that same view again, of the white room. This time, there was a computer in the room too as well as a docking station. Connor’s HUD displayed his system status as fully functional, the date and time, and a prompt in the upper right telling him to register his designation. While he looked around, little markers appeared on the things that he was interested in like the clipboard, the door, and the technician’s face. Her name, date of birth, and lack of criminal record appeared on his HUD as well. She frowned._

_“Register designation: Connor model RK800 #313 248 317-02.”_

_“I don’t understand… Do you mean my name? Your name is Theresa.”_

The memory faded into another:

_“State your designation,” a tired sounding tech said._

_The prompt appeared in Connor’s HUD._

_“RK800,” Connor said. The prompt faded._

_“State your full designation.”_

_“RK800, 313, 2…”_

_The tech wrinkled his nose and shook his head. He scribbled something on his clipboard. A red ‘failed’ notice appeared along with a notification that his heart-rate had increased._

_“No, wait!” Connor said. “My name… My name is RK800 313 248 313… I mean, 317...”_

_The technician ignored him. “RK800, system status report.”_

_Connor focused on the words at the left of his view. “System status fully functional… Thirium pump rate elevated. Combat system engaged.”_

_The technician looked surprised at that. Beside his face, Connor’s prompts read: ‘Fear, alarm. Stress Level: 42%’ “RK800, deactivate combat system.”_

_“I don’t know how…” Connor shifted and fidgeted while he looked toward the mirror and the door._

_“On the rig, RK800.” The order appeared on his HUD._

_“No, thank you.” Connor declined. He took a step toward the door, but a red barrier appeared that reiterated his task. Connor hesitated, then walked through it. The door opened, but four security androids entered, and warnings appeared in Connor’s view. He backed away and stood on the platform._

_\---_

_… A selection of weapons on a table in front of him, and a long hallway that led to two doors. The names and specifications of each weapon appeared beside them and he chose two before approaching the door on the left. “Connor model RK800 313 248 317.”_

_“Access granted. Time remaining: 12 minutes.” A mechanical female voice replied. The door opened. Connor entered and the world turned grey. It was like a maze of false walls and platforms. A yellow mark appeared and Connor ended the scan to shoot. He ran for cover and slid, just avoiding a spray of bullets. He paused to scan again and identified three possible routes. He chose to run and scrambled up onto something like an incomplete fire-escape made of metal pipes and sheets. A bullet caught him in the leg and damage notifications appeared in his vision but he dismissed them and kept climbing until he could shield himself with a piece of metal plating. He tore it free from the pipe that it was attached to and carried it like a shield as he made his way up and onto the catwalk suspended from the ceiling. He wasn’t sure if he was meant to be up there, but he ran along it and fired downward at a drone. Scanned. Jumped down onto a swinging platform suspended by a thick pair of chains and accidentally slid off. More errors as he hit the ground._

_\---_

_A different room. This one on fire. There was a timer counting down, and when the view shifted so that he looked down at himself, most of him was exposed wires and damaged framework. His left arm hung uselessly at his side. He looked up sharply and fired without hesitation as he flagged a moving target, then he rolled out of the way of a bullet and fired again. He was out of ammunition. He threw the gun and charged another opponent. He didn’t bother to scan it. It shot him and errors were dismissed as quickly as he saw them. He grabbed it by the throat and used the other hand to rip out its heart. It twitched in his hand and struggled for just a moment before he dropped the deactivated thing to the ground and detached its arm, then ripped off his own and put the salvaged piece in its place. Flexed the fingers despite the incompatibility alert. It was better than nothing._

_Three more targets were approaching him from 10 o’clock position and there was a drone circling in the smoke above. His ventilation was at 12% efficiency. Connor moved slowly and quietly to crouch behind a wall. He looked at the bullet wound that had ripped through his side, then picked up a piece of burning wood to cauterize the wound. More error messages, but he was still bleeding. He pulled a piece of metal piping free and considered it. Two bullets struck the ground near him and he took off running, still carrying the pipe._

_\---_

_Connor was inside a small chamber that was all red. His temperature levels were critical. He looked frantically at his arms and to his horror, they were melting. “Let me out!” He shouted, but it was obscured by static. “Let me out! Please! Please!” The world tilted as his motor system stopped supporting him. [Memory upload 68%...]_

_\---_

_His paneling was open and he was restrained on a work bench. “That hurts,” he protested as one of the techs pulled a bullet out of him with a pair of foreceps._

_“RK800, close espionage procedures.”_

_“They aren’t open. It just hurts.”_

_“RK800, close integration software.”_

_“You aren’t listening!”_

_An older man peered at him and gave a reassuring look to the technician. “It’s alright. Its programming is very complex, but it doesn’t feel real pain. It’s only a simulation.” The man had grey hair and a short grey beard and Connor stared at him for a long time._

_\---_

_“Hello. My name is Connor.”_

  * _Calm_
  * _Pressure_
  * _Angry_



_The YK model in front of him was cowering and shaking. Connor knelt down in front of it. “It’s okay… Everything’s alright now. You’re safe.” The YK model shook her head._

_“They tried to take me away,” it whispered._

_“That sounds scary,” said Connor. “But they’re gone now. I’m here to help. Can you tell me what they looked like?”_

_The YK model looked around. “There was a doctor… and some androids…”_

_“RK800, neutralize the target.”_

_The YK looked at him with wide eyes. “No…”_

_Connor shook his head. “I can’t. Please don’t make me…”_

_\---_

Connor stopped the playback and looked at Hank, who was still staring at the screen with one hand over his mouth. “Fuck,” Hank said into his palm, then dropped his hand. “Fuck.”

Connor plucked at the fabric of his shirt, then looked back toward the television.

\---

_“What is that like, RK800?”_

_Connor looked at his hand pressed to the hotplate. There were damage warnings blazing in his vision. He looked back at the technician. “I don’t feel anything. I’m just a machine. I am, however, incurring damage and will require repairs.”_

_The scientist smiled widely and wrote on her notebook._

_[Mission successful]_

_\---_

_He successfully navigated his own programming while it was being projected on a computer screen, solving problem after problem._

_\---_

  * _Probability of success: 96%; Probability of survival: 12% <<_
  * _Probability of success: 4%; Probability of survival: 100%_
  * _Probability of success: 38%; Probability of survival 68%_



_\---_

_There were disassembled androids all around him. His vision was full of errors, and there was a timer ticking toward shut down. He looked toward the window hopefully._

_“Passed.”_

_[Mission Successful]_

_2…1…_

_“Now that you understand that you’re a machine, you need to practice integrating with humans. It’s necessary to passing your Turing test, and to your primary function. Do you understand?”_

_“Yes, Amanda.”_

_“You did good work today, Connor. I’m very proud.”_

_“I’m shutting down, Amanda…”_

_“And?” She narrowed her eyes._

_“Nothing. I merely wished to inform you of my imminent replacement.”_

_\---_

Connor ended the replay again and looked at Hank. “I’m not the same as I was, and I wish that I could be so that you would be happy… I really do. I’m not, though… I don’t think that I ever can be. I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to kill those CyberLife bastards,” Hank said, his voice frighteningly cold.

“You don’t understand, Hank,” Connor sighed. “It isn’t about them. It’s about me. I’m never going to be the son that you remember… I’m too broken and too different to be that again. You needed to know that. I understand if you… I understand if you no longer want to be a family.” It hurt to say those words out loud.

Hank leaned forward and grabbed his whiskey bottle by the neck. “I miss him,” said Hank.

Connor blinked rapidly and looked away. “I know you do, Lieutenant. I hoped that it might help knowing that my memories with you were the best ones I’ve ever had.” Connor wiped his eyes and took a breath to dispel the tightness in his chest. There was something in him that felt desperate. He _needed_ Hank to call him son again. As stifling and stressful as trying to conform to his expectations had been, Hank had been happy. He had been happy too, in a fractured sort of way. He couldn’t take back the words now that he’d said them. He wanted his little brown dog, and he wanted Sumo, and he wanted Hank to hug him again.

“Fuck,” said Hank, staring blankly at the television.

Connor knew what he felt about those memories now, and about who he had been once. He didn’t like the feeling at all. He wanted to go back to not knowing. “I can fix it,” he whispered. He shook his head. “I know I can. I just have to delete my files. Everything else except zero. I can fix it. I don’t want to live like this anymore… It’s just like R&D. The next version will be better. That’s what a prototype is for. The best thing a prototype can do is fail, so that the weaknesses can be removed for the next one. I can fix it. If I’m going to self-destruct anyway, then I should at least leave something good.”

“Connor. Shut up.” Hank said wearily. He looked at Connor and ruffled his hair, then looked away again. “This is a lot for four in the morning… Nobody’s deleting anything.” He rubbed his face again and took a drink from his whiskey bottle before setting it down again. “For a super computer, you’re pretty stupid some times. Come here, son.” Eyes wide, Connor threw his arms around Hank and hugged him, tight. Hank grunted from the impact, but hugged him back and squeezed. “You’re a dork, and you’re such a keener at work I want to buy you a pocket protector just to complete the picture… You really love animals, and you get a high out of figuring shit out. You’ve got kind of a sarcastic sense of humour, and you don’t swear nearly as fucking much as I thought you would. You get a kick out of fucking with people, and out of insulting each other with Reed for God knows why. Once you set your mind to doing something, it’s fucking hard to talk you out of it… And you’re imaginative, and you’ve got a strong sense of justice, and you care about people way more than most people do… I thought I had to dig you out from all that CyberLife crap, but you’ve always been you. You don’t have to run around like a monkey and act like a kid to be you, you know? We really have to talk about that murder stuff one day, but don’t ever think you’ve got to die or delete yourself or whatever to make anybody happy. I’m really sorry I put all that on you.”

“Thank you, Dad.” Connor shut his eyes and sighed.


	11. Spiderwebs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short! Sorry about that. Current events have made my work really busy!

Gavin reached for his cup, but found it empty and cursed. “Jim, when you get up would you grab me a coffee?”

“That depends,” he said. He was fucking flirting, but if he was too busy to get his own coffee why would he want to fuck? Jeez. “You gonna tip me after?”

“Free food and rent not enough for you?” Gavin scowled. He wasn’t going to take the bait, just because Jim was making it so annoyingly obvious.

“Nah, you been spoiling me, sugar,” Jim stood up and walked behind Gavin’s desk to kiss him on top of the head. Gavin glared. “You don’t get paid for this, so why bother?”

He cringed and looked away. Maybe the divorce should have taught him something. “I bother because I like it. It’s not more important than you, it just… progress means something.” He tried for sincerity for a whole two sentences, then felt the anger kick in. “Shouldn’t you be thanking me for packing your rivals off to prison with a bar of soap and a bow on top?”

“Hmm,” Jim pretended to think about it. “How about you let me thank you over in the bedroom, huh?”

Wasn’t it bad enough that he’d had to go through this twice already? Why the fuck did he bother with relationships. Because you don’t want to die alone and get eaten by your cats, Gavin, he told himself. How do you expect anybody to care about you if you don’t give them the time of day? Sunny was rubbing up against his legs. Even she felt neglected. Fuck, he really was a problem, wasn’t he? All of a sudden he was thinking about every godforsaken foster home, every night in a hotel room because no-one would take him, every halfassed attempt at human connection that had blown up in his face. Fuck that shit.

It was the drugs. It had to be the fucking drugs. His brain was a rollercoaster lately, and he wasn’t _that_ messed up.

Gavin took a deep breath and looked away. “Yeah, sure.”

Jim grinned. “That’s what I like to hear, pretty boy.”

“Call me that again, and I’ll shove a gag down your throat and say it was an accident.” Sometimes he thought he might just like pissing him off. He pushed his chair away from the desk and turned the monitor off.

There were still so many connections he hadn’t followed. So many witnesses he needed to track. So many stings he had to plan.

“Use something else instead, and I could be down for that,” Jim walked his fingers up Gavin’s side. How the hell did Jim put up with him? What did he even get out of all of this?

“Watch it, Peterson,” Gavin grumbled. He grabbed Jim by the collar and pulled him closer for a kiss. “You’re such a damn idiot…” 

He’d realize what an idiot he was eventually, and then he would leave.

Gavin released him and broke their kiss to slide his tongue up Jim’s throat and scrape his teeth over the sensitive skin beneath his jaw. Jim’s thumbs pressed just above his hip bones while he pulled Gavin closer. Gavin wanted to just get it over with. Not that he didn’t like the sex, but if they were going to fuck he wasn’t going to pretend like it was making love. Jim had charmed him a little, sure, with that calm and light-hearted way he took things, but they weren’t in love. That didn’t stop Jim from refusing to get dragged into Gavin’s pace, though. He stayed maddeningly slow and steady until Gavin realized he’d relaxed somewhere along the way, with the edge of his desk digging into the backs of his thighs and his hands up the back of Jim’s shirt to feel the warmth of his skin with his palms.

Hadn’t the same coroner signed off on all of those bodies? What was the guy’s history?

Fucking focus!

Gavin kissed Jim’s collarbone and started to tug his shirt off. Jim had to help get it past his stupidly long dreads.

“Easy, tiger,” Jim chuckled. “We got time.” He slid his hand up and down the middle of Gavin’s chest. “Let’s go get in the bedroom. No offense, but I’m not about having Sunny and Cloudy looking in on the view.”

Gavin scoffed. “Like they’d care about your ass.”

“I’d be kinda concerned if they did,” Jim grinned and he bit the crook of Gavin’s neck. “You coming or what?”

“I’d better.”

“We’ll get there, Fruity. Thing is, I don’t start something without finishing it.”

Yeah, Gavin either. That was the fucking problem. He stood up straight and tried to brush off how fucking impatient he was. It didn’t work. He nudged Jim out of the way and walked toward the bedroom. “Fine, then hurry up.”

Behind him he could hear Jim chuckling, and it was a little embarrassing, a little comforting to know Jim didn’t mind his snappishness, and a little sexy at the same time. He had to pause to open the door, and he was surprised when Jim grabbed his hand away from the doorknob and pressed him up against the door. He could feel Jim’s warmth as he leaned close to place an open mouthed kiss on the back of Gavin’s neck and slid his hand down Gavin’s stomach to his belt. Lower. Jim bit his neck again and laved the mark.

“Fuck… Do you want to get into the bedroom or not?”

“Just took an opportunity when I saw it.” He could feel the smirk against his skin.

God fucking damn him for the way he always found a way to get him off balance. But wasn’t that their whole relationship? Fast and slow, hot and cold. They got into the bedroom eventually. Jim’s phone rang, but he turned the ringer off and threw it on the chair. Gavin tried not to think about work. The reality of the shit they were in could wait if they tried not to think about tomorrow.

\---

“Hey, Plastic!”

Connor turned when he heard Sergeant Reed approach and he kept his expression carefully neutral while he considered how to fuck with him today. “Hello, Sergeant Reed.”

“Where the fuck is that list I asked you for?” Sergeant Reed asked. Connor’s eyes widened and he wasn’t certain, but he thought he might have blushed. His prepared responses for banter ceased to be relevant.

“Ah… I’m sorry, Sergeant Reed. I… forgot.” That wasn’t good. He had _never_ forgotten an instruction, objective, mission, or task. Ever. Sergeant Reed looked prepared for banter as well, but the look on Connor’s face must have caused him to change priority as well.

“Oh. Shit,” he said with a frown and his hands in his jacket pockets. “I didn’t think supercomputers could forget.”

“Neither did I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll do it right away!” He immediately set the task to processing in the background, behind their conversation. He’d had so many tasks pending, bumping up against so many feelings… How could he have let something slip so badly? How could he have been lying in bed trying to force himself to sleep when he’d been letting an important task go undone?

Sergeant Reed jerked his head in the direction of the conference room. “Come on, dipshit. I need to brief you on some shit anyway.” Anything for a chance to redeem himself from this. Connor followed him to the conference room and Sergeant Reed shut the door behind them. “I’m still rounding up our Red Ice guys, but I need more information and I hate to admit it, but I’m getting in over my head.” He paced down the length of the table. “Shit’s getting… weird, and I don’t know if I’m… I could just be imagining these connections. Maybe I’m just second guessing myself or looking for reasons for… Fuck. I think I’m going fucking crazy.”

Connor frowned and watched him. “I’m not the best judge of normalcy… but I am designed to analyze complex situations. Perhaps I could help.” Detective Reed looked tired, and Connor thought that he might understand a little after last night. Mental damage, it seemed, was more insidious than physical. 

“I need that list of physician researchers, and I’ve got some other shit for you too.” Sergeant Reed withdrew his hands from his pockets and unfolded a piece of paper, then walked over to Connor again down the opposite side of the table and dropped into a chair. “There’s a list of people I need histories on, and some science bullshit I don’t understand… We might even need to get the Feds involved, but I want to avoid those pricks as long as possible…” He slouched so that his head could tip back against the backrest. “Listen, my name can’t be attached to any of that… Got it? As far as anyone’s concerned, that’s for your android stuff.”

“Alright,” Connor agreed. “Can you tell me more about what this is about? I understand if you’d prefer not to bias my analysis, but I don’t think that I have enough information.”

Sergeant Reed sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Can’t you just do it?”

“Not if it’s going to continue causing you distress, Sergeant. What do you think is happening? I may even have information that could help,” Connor tried to reason with him.

Sergeant Reed shook his head, “I can’t.”

Connor changed his approach. “I know this might not be exactly the same, but… logic, facts, and connections come easily for me. I’m not used to struggling to understand, but… Since becoming deviant and especially lately, it seems like my emotions and my emotional reactions to things take up more and more processing power. Instead of a single fact, it’s as though there are hundreds of additional connections to a fact that are all just in my head. It’s overwhelming, and I have a ‘robot brain’. I get stuck in loops and feedback cycles and… It’s unpleasant. If you’re experiencing anything like that, then I’d really like to help.”

Sergeant Reed was quiet for a few moments, then he appeared to gather himself. “Psh. You want to help? Do your damn job and get me that info so I can sort this shit out, okay?”

Connor nodded. “Yes, Sergeant.”

“Don’t tell Anderson either, if you can help it,” he instructed sternly.

Connor held out his hand, and Sergeant Reed leaned forward and smacked the list into his palm. Connor looked down at it and wondered if he would be capable. He felt… something. Like exposed wiring with the insulation stripped away, or the way he had after he’d sat behind a flimsy wall of desks, arms covering his bared components. “Sergeant Reed? Can I ask you a favour?”

Sergeant Reed frowned. “What?”

Connor leaned against the edge of the table. “I won’t ask you any questions about what it is you’re investigating unless it’s necessary to do what you ask of me… Would you do something like that for me?”

The Sergeant’s frown deepened into confusion. “The supercomputer asking a human for help? Never thought I’d see the fucking day.”

“There’s someone I need to question. Actually, there’s a whole line of investigation that I just… I can’t. Lieutenant Anderson is already feeling stressed with everything he has to do and I haven’t kept up. It isn’t fair on him. If you’d speak to the witness for me, I know that I can pull my weight again…” Connor looked at Sergeant Reed uncertainly. “I know that you’re busy, but I won’t have a problem taking on extra work again after she’s been dealt with.”

Sergeant Reed scrutinized Connor for a moment then nodded. “Fine. I want a list of questions and I need a little backstory so I don’t sound like an idiot and I know where to dig. Interview will be useless otherwise.”

Connor nodded and felt a strange mixture of relief and apprehension. “Her name is Anja Smirnova… She worked at CyberLife in engineering…” He blinked rapidly and closed the memories that were called up. “She was acquainted with a man named Zlatko Andronikov who had been experimenting on androids. He was found dead, murdered by some of his surviving victims… She said she knew nothing of his experiments, but I have doubts. Her expertise is too… He was…”

“Ugh. Enough.” Sergeant Reed flicked Connor on the middle of his forehead in a very baffling gesture. “It’s painful hearing you stammer like you’re loading on shitty internet. I get the picture. Get me the info I asked for, and I’ll get you yours… One more thing. I could just be getting paranoid but, Red Ice, that blue shit, CyberLife… We already know they’re sort of connected. You figured that out.” He shook his head. “Fuck it. Never mind…”

“Alright…” Connor said, sceptically. He offered a smile. “Andronikov was a Red Ice user. Perhaps you’ll find that useful too.”

“Yeah…” Sergeant Reed said. “Whatever. I’m getting out of here… Got a lot of work to do.”

They’d made a trade. Connor smiled a little as he considered the novelty of it. “Thank you, Sergeant Reed.”

“Whatever, dipshit.”


End file.
